Branded With These Wings
by CasXxGrippedXxMeXxTight
Summary: Dean has never met his equal.  Never met a woman who's seen and been through what he has.  Or share his love of classic cars and classic rock.  Until he met Kat.  No last name and she wishes no past.  When they cross paths, their lives change forever.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey! THIS IS EDITED! A huge incredible thank you to my editor CFEditor! –waves frantically- She's largely responsible for keeping my brain on track here, and I couldn't have done this with out her. **

**If you're clicking this story for the very first time, future edited chapters will say they are edited. If they do not, well….read at your own risk. I know a lot of the early chapters weren't all that awesome. But this is!**

**If you've stuck with me, and are reading the edits, give me your thoughts. Am I hitting the mark here?**

**I love all of you very very very much.**

**-Han**

Chapter 1

The black-haired woman ducked down quickly as the knife flew past the space where her head had been just a minute before. Her ice-blue eyes roamed the graveyard until they rested on a figment of an old man with a bag of knives at his side. He was smiling broadly, and the girl stood and flipped over the open grave in time to avoid another knife. As she soared over the hole, she allowed a string of salt to land on the bones. She quickly grabbed her shotgun from beside her once she landed, and shot at the ghost. It disappeared in a puff of smoke and she couldn't help but be thankful for rock salt. She turned and quickly doused the bones with kerosene. Just before she lit the match, the spirit threw another knife. This time it embedded itself into her shoulder, the glinting blade piercing the jacket she wore. She let out a slight scream and wondered for a moment why Blake wasn't covering her. She shook herself violently, trying to force her mind off of it. She should be over this part of it already; he'd been dead for months.

Her process halted for a moment, as she thought of his lifeless stare and slack grip. She wondered absently why she didn't feel much pain over the thought of his death, more fear that no one was there to watch her back. She didn't miss the bar fights or drunken slurs, and she didn't miss his many debts to the loyal patrons of the Roadhouse. In general, she just didn't miss him at all. Odd, seeing as he once fell under the title 'boyfriend.'

She was pulled violently back to the present as another knife whizzed past her. She lit the match quickly and watched, transfixed, as the flames consumed the rotting bones. The image of the ghost flickered threateningly, like film held in place too long, before burning away. She flinched back from the screams and wondered if he'd always been that loud.

She gripped the hilt of the blade, jutting from her shoulder, and breathed a sigh when she found it only a quarter inch deep. It might need a butterfly stitch, but it was nothing serious. Still, pulling the sharp blade from her flesh made a cry of pain rip through her throat.

When she held the knife in her hand, she tore a strip from the bottom of her shirt with it. She tied the bandage around the open wound with her teeth, glad that it hadn't bled much. She sighed at the thought of the open wound and glanced at her callused hands. 'The Aftermath,' she thought disdainfully, picking up her shovel and filling the hole.

An hour later, when her back ached and her forehead was well past sweaty, she packed up her weapons and checked the cut. It was bleeding slowly, no more than a few drops a minute, and the makeshift wrap caught it. She mounted her bike and allowed herself a smile as it thrummed beneath her.

Then, the kickstand was up and her hair was flying behind her. The night blended around her until she couldn't be sure what was real anymore, and her thoughts wandered. She would have to stop thinking of Blake, she told herself firmly. What would he think, if he saw how distracted she was?

She knew exactly what he would _say. _He'd said it enough times.

"_Kat! Pay attention! You can't go off into la-la land when a demon's trying to kill you! Why did I ever fall for you, you idiot?" _He'd yell at her and then grow softer through the words, as if what he was telling her was really insightful and revealing to him. And she would say that she loved him as though she meant it. But she didn't.

It wasn't him so much as it was a combination of both her and him. He was loud, obnoxious, violent with other men, and too attached to her. She was quiet for the sake of watching instead of playing the game, opinionated amongst those she trusted to some extent, and distant. The last one she hadn't meant to be, but she was. It was something she'd come to terms with, and Blake hadn't.

At least he never tried to call her 'Kitty'. Too many people did that, and it was only afforded to a few. Blake was not one of them.

Of course, people thought it odd when she introduced herself as Kat and nothing else, but as far as she knew, she had no last name. And figuring it out would mean revisiting a past she'd prefer not to remember. Her twin, Jamie, on the other hand, had wanted to _know. _So shortly after John Winchester had left them on the side of the road, claiming that his boys were in trouble, Jamie left to find out as much as he could. She hadn't heard from him in over a year. Nor had she heard from John. She didn't think too much of it, from either of them. As far as she knew, Jamie had quit the life and John was back with the family.

And she wouldn't intrude on either of them.

After that, she'd had Blake. And he'd been okay. The closest thing she'd ever had to a female friend had left her to follow her brother. She'd gotten word that Jenna had died three months after that. She was even less saddened by this than she was when Blake died.

Well, died probably wasn't the proper term. Drained by vampires was more appropriate.

Nowadays, Kat worked at the bar, putting up with drunk hunters and civilians alike and Ash's constant stories of how exactly he'd bested the Yellow-eyed demon when he'd tried to blow up his 'baby'… Tried being the operative word, because no one messed with his bar if he was around.

Most of the patrons knew it had been a whole lot of luck for Ash and whole lot of help from the thirty or so hunters that happened to be in that night. But, of course, Ash never did tell it that way.

Ash didn't know that she still hunted, or rather, didn't want to know. He'd rather think that she was taking long drives to clear her head, and came back the way she did because of *insert Ash's tall tale of the week here*. She figured that was only so he didn't have to be the one to tell Singer that she'd directly disobeyed him. Though, she'd argue that it was a friendly suggestion that she quit hunting. After what happened with Blake, Bobby didn't think it fit for her to run around half-cocked without a partner.

She hadn't spoken to him in the two months since Blake's death, and she wouldn't be surprised if he thought she'd been burned on her own pyre. It wasn't as if she did it on purpose, but most hunters took lack of communication for lack of life.

She drove to the bar, and walked around to the small shack just behind it. She dropped off her duffel, taking the time once inside to pick up her sketchbooks. She really ought to put the medical equipment in there, she thought to herself, looking over the inside. The metal-sheet walls were covered with hunts- newspaper clippings and post-it notes all trying to connect to the center. But nothing ever did. All dead ends and disappointments. She closed the door behind her and walked into the bar. Her body ached and her eyes were heavy… Sleep would be welcome. Very welcome.

She walked easily into the Roadhouse, dodging Ash as he was flung by one of the patrons. He jumped up, a grin on his face and a glint in his eyes.

"You watch yourself Tanner, I'll get you back!" He shouted, his southern twang prominent. He saluted Kat as she walked in and noticed the wrapped cloth around her arm with distaste. Instead of saying anything, he muttered something about headstrong dumbasses, and led the way to his office.

The little sign proudly proclaimed 'Dr. Badass is In' and she thought of it as 'home'. She'd long ago gotten used to the smell of old sheets and week-old pizza. She folded herself onto the couch and sat quietly while Ash handed her a bottle of whiskey and the med-kit. "The whiskey's for the cut," he said as she brought the bottle to her lips.

"Ash…" she complained as he took the bottle from her, wincing as it jolted her arm. A small trickle of blood was seeping from under the tie.

"Shuttup," he said gruffly, untying the piece of shirt and tossing it aside. He appraised the cut and doused it with whiskey without a word. Her gasp of pain and twitch of muscles were enough to make him smirk. "Be more careful then."

"Bastard," she growled, a hint of a smile on her face. Ash grinned to himself, knowing he wouldn't get much else out of her. Smiles had been hard to come by for her, and he took every moment he could to tease her openly.

"I got people comin' here tonight, be on your best behavior," he said sarcastically.

"Who?"

"Just…friends. Haven't seen 'em in these parts for a while."

"Would it happen to be that Prettyboy and Batman you keep talking about?" she asked, her eyebrows lifting.

"They don't exactly know I call them that," he said with a nervous glance.

"Hunters?" she asked, jerking suddenly as Ash nicked her with the needle slightly. "Go," she said at his unspoken question. She hissed sharply as the needle pierced her skin. "Just a butterfly."

"Gotcha. And yeah, they are. So try not to make these ones enemies," he said.

"I can't help it that people don't like me," she said softly, her eyes screwed shut from the pain. She felt her blood rush through her veins and the steady thrumming of her heart and knew she was alive. That was the upside to moments like these. If you could feel the pain, you were feeling something. And something was infinitely better than nothing.

"You could try to be nice?" he asked, glancing at her face.

"Meh."

"And you wonder why you don't have many friends," Ash grumbled. "Does that hurt too much?" he asked as he poked through her skin again.

"S'okay. Pain's good," she mumbled, a little louder than she'd intended to.

"Kinky." A deep male voice threaded through her hazy thoughts and her eyes snapped open.


	2. Chapter 2

**EDITED! I should have three up within the week.**

**-Han**

Chapter 2

The door closed with a click behind her and Kat felt a small blush work its way onto her cheeks. She had to struggle to keep her eyes on Ash, as they ached to look at the man. His voice was simply that commanding. It had a deep timbre, the kind that was somewhere between gravel and the purr of an engine. The kind of voice that she knew women fantasized about. It demanded not only attention, but a lusty, wanting need.

Ash smiled a greeting at him, and Kat had to remind herself that another person was supposed to be with him. She turned slowly to the now closed door, absently looking at the newcomers.

Her eyes focused enough to take in the speaker. He was tall, maybe 6' 1". His hair was either dark or light brown, it was hard to tell in this light, and his eyes were a vibrant green. Even from here she could see them. A brown leather jacket hung off his shoulders and she could only guess the strength of the muscles beneath it. His face was angularly carved with high cheekbones and cupid's bow lips.

Kat was suddenly glad that she'd never really felt anything remotely sexual for anyone, and that lust was not something she had had to deal with. _Because_, she thought, absently wincing as Ash tied the stitches, _he is sex personified._

She'd never had thoughts even remotely resembling that, simply because of her background. But now, now she was imagining how soft his skin would be, should she run her fingertips over it. She was wondering exactly what words it would take for her opinions to change.

She was wondering if his back was as muscular as she thought it would be, and if she could get him to grin, and what that grin would be like… would it make her heart stutter. She was wondering all the things she told herself she would never even think about again. She was wandering into dangerous paths and winding roads that could only hurt her.

"Hey," a soft voice broke her out of her thoughts and she was proud enough to note that she'd only been lost in thought for a few awkward seconds, while the two men had been sizing her up. She shook herself, remembering there was a second man, the one who'd spoken so gently. She gave a small nod in greeting while looking him over.

This man was taller than the first by maybe three inches and leaner, with a softer face and warm eyes. She could practically see the ease in which he could fall into a pout. His eyes were either hazel or a very murky blue, but it was hard to tell from his position at the door. His hair was a dark brown and much longer than the former's. It parted at his forehead and hung past his ears.

Not only were they two of the most striking hunters she'd ever seen, but they both looked remarkably like John. Not in an overbearing way, either.

There was the strong jaw line of the taller one, and the broad shoulders of both. Kat tilted her head slightly, seeing beyond the physical for a moment. Both men reminded her of John in that they had haunted eyes. Like her.

She jumped slightly from the awkward cough Ash gave in her ear and realized she'd yet to say anything. She took a moment to look over the new butterfly stitch and give a thumbs-up to Ash.

"You just gonna stand there?" she asked, looking back to the awkwardly standing men. She motioned for them to walk further inside and prepared to stand. "Do you want me gone, Ash?" she asked, not really caring what the others thought.

She caught herself before her eyes could slide over to the shorter one, berating herself harshly for even wondering about him. Her face fell into the mask of a hunter, her eyes hard and her expression blank. She was looking at Ash, her posture not indicating any of the pain she felt from the wound on her shoulder.

Her body language practically shouted hostile and unbreakable as if to say, 'I'm a real woman. I don't even wince at a knife wound. Come, cut me again so I can laugh at your feeble attempts to draw my attention.' Of course, it still hurt like a bitch, and she didn't really want another anytime soon, but they didn't have to know that.

"I think you should stay," Ash said softly. She shot him a curious glance and slid back into the couch. "Kat, meet Sam and Dean." Kat looked at Ash with harsh eyes, practically screaming at him. All she could think about was John. They had a relation to him, his sons, maybe? They could tell her where he was.

Her eyes darkened as she decided she'd rather not know. She'd rather be ignorant and pretend he was living the rest of his life playing eighteen holes on the green instead of still hunting or worse.

"So, you boys had somethin' for me?" Ash asked a little too brightly, rubbing his hands together for emphasis.

"Well, like we told you on the phone, we think it's a demon or something corporeal," Sam said. His voice was softer, the tone almost vulnerable. Childlike. Kat glanced at Ash, sure that this was the one he referred to as 'Prettyboy.'

"And it's been kidnappin' kids?" Ash asked, looking pointedly to Kat, to be sure she was paying attention. "What're the areas?"

"Northern Maine and this is only the second time it's done it," Dean said, looking over a file that Sam had brought in the room.

"When was the first?" Kat asked, her voice not the soft, gentle one she had used with Ash. This one meant business. Dean looked at her for a long time, like he was sizing her up. Unspoken hostility hovered in his eyes and his body was tense. He didn't trust her, but that was okay. She didn't trust many people either.

"The parents were murdered and the children taken sometime in the fall of 1992," Sam said, not looking up from his notes or even acknowledging that she was there.

Kat was quiet, her eyes on the floor. Jack Daniels bottles and candy wrappers littered old hardwood and area rugs. Cut-up pieces of gun magazines in 'orderly' stacks along a far wall and the furniture crammed in the rest of the space. She was lost in thought, but was quickly pulled back down to Earth.

"We were thinkin' of headin' up that way sometime tomorrow," Dean was saying, looking pointedly at Ash only. There was no mistaking the predatory glint in his eyes. He was the boss, and he was keeping this job in the family. She imagined they did that a lot.

"I have to go," she whispered. Sam looked up then, as though expecting her to stand and walk into the bar for something she needed. She remained seated.

"No," Dean said immediately. He had seen the sudden determination in her body language and knew what she wanted. Kat was quiet for all of a minute, until her demeanor sagged. Her shoulders slumped inward slightly and her eyes were on the ground.

"I have to. It's for a friend," she said. She looked up and met Sam's eyes, sensing he would be easier to break. "She was part of the first family," she said.

Dean's eyes narrowed, unsure whether to believe her or not. Sam was simply giving her the 'look.' The one he usually reserved for the victims they were interrogating. The look that spoke of safety and assurance.

Ash was watching her with both surprise and apprehension. It wasn't like her to divulge anything willingly. She must have some hope left after all. Or maybe it was just vengeance.

"She escaped along with her brother, Blake, and I traveled with them for a while. She'd been looking for the demon for years. She died about a year and a half ago," she said, her posture strong enough to assert herself as a hunter and bowed enough to make her look like she was grieving. "Her name was Jenna," she added. _Make it personal_, she told herself sharply. She'd been doing this long enough to know how you convinced someone of your lie.

At least they hadn't known her long enough to see her tell-the almost imperceptible twitch of the first two fingers of her right hand. She took a deep breath and prepared to continue.

"She devoted herself to finding it, to avenge her family. It was all she could ever think about. I think it ended up making her reckless, and she slipped up on a hunt. And she died." Her voice cracked just right at the end, providing the boys with the only indication that she was 'hurting.'

Dean was looking _almost_ guilty, squirming uncomfortably in his seat. Sam's eyes were huge and sad.

"When she was dying, I promised her I'd find it. That I'd kill it for her," she said proudly, as if it were now her life's mission. Ash was looking at her with something in between pride and sadness. He remembered when she couldn't lie to save her life and faking emotions was just as hard as touching the real ones.

There was a silent moment of deliberation, one where the quiet was suffocating. Kat was now looking at Dean, and there was no fear in her posture or in her eyes. Just determination. She would show up even if they didn't formally invite her.


	3. Chapter 3

**EDITED! Thanks to CDEditor and her husband for all the help, you guys are awesome. I'm currently working very very hard on 4-6, and if it works well, those should be up by the end of the week. Thanks for reading!**

**-Han**

Dean cursed in his mind, but resolved, that if she went with them, they could at least keep an eye on her.

"Dean, we can't just-" Sam didn't even have to finish the sentence.

"Fine," he all but grunted. His eyes were on the floor and his shoulders were bowed inward, as if he carried a great weight there. "But you follow my orders, understood?" he barked.

"Of course," she said. 'Provided they are the right orders,' she thought with a wry grin.

Dean wasn't sure whether to believe her. She seemed sincere, but something about her story made him feel like he had an itch at the back of his mind that needed to be scratched. But he could see her resolve to follow them; it reminded him of Sammy's look right after the Yellow-eyed Demon killed Jessica.

Dean didn't like emotional people. They made him nervous. She hadn't cried, though, which said something for her. She looked emotionally strong enough to get through this without a real slip. He could respect that much about her.

"So, you're really a hunter?" Dean asked skeptically. He didn't see it. She looked too soft and demure. She was slipping into a black leather jacket that sat familiarly on her shoulders. He hadn't seen much of her arms when he walked in (he'd been too intent for her to leave) but he could tell they were slim. Her neck carried that elegant curve that made him think of people who didn't know what work was.

Her body itself was that petite and slim type figure. His eyes lingered over her breasts and he guessed she was a C at best. He was usually pretty good at guessing. Her legs were curvy enough for him to be interested and her hips enough to make him happy. From what he could tell, the body was soft, instead of the callused and scarred body of a hunter. But he couldn't be sure with the layers she wore.

Her face was pale, and dark hair floated around it, looking snarled from wind. A thin sheen of sweat covered her forehead, but it had been warm in Ash's room. Her lips were shapely and a dusky pink. Not Angelina full, but not thin by any means. He thought they were the kind of lips that seemed made for a sarcastic smirk.

Then he looked in her eyes and gulped. The cool, icy blue reminded him of a warrior. She'd seen hard things, that was obvious. Her eyes were haunted, the kind of unspoken sadness and heartbreak that he thought only he knew of. It reminded him of looking in the mirror after Hell, before he learned to hide it better.

"Did you think I was having Ash stitch me up for kicks and giggles?" she asked, her head tilting to the side. Her hair was long and dark, slightly curly strands hanging across her eyes.

Ash stuck his fingers in his ears like he was trying to dig out a big hunk of wax. Dean could tell he just didn't want to hear what was going on.

"Lalalalallalala, I can't hear you! If I can't hear you Bobby can't hurt me!" he said loudly, his head shaking back and forth. His mullet swayed from side to side as he did.

"Ash, calm down. I'll stop by there first," Kat consoled. "This one's big, I'll need his advice."

"You know Bobby?" Dean asked, becoming even more cautious. He didn't particularly like people who knew his family; it made him slightly suspicious. He didn't know who he could trust these days.

"Most hunters this side of Kansas City know Bobby Singer. Don't sound so surprised," she said, her tone becoming harsher. He blinked, reluctantly accepting her explanation.

After a brief conversation with Ash, Kat led the way out back. She quickly unlocked the shack, stepping over scattered DVD's and books. Ash's office hadn't been big enough for her to simply move in. She stared at the walls for a moment, before snatching random articles and clippings from the web to take with her. She grabbed her duffels, one full of 'hunting' clothes and the other full of weapons. She did a brief check of her weapons, shifting uncomfortably under the watchful eyes of Sam and Dean.

"Do you want to come in?" she asked, waving an arm around. She ejected and checked a clip of ammo before sliding it back into place.

After hesitating just a moment, she snatched a Wii.

"You're taking a Wii?" Sam asked, thinking she must be playing some sort of joke. "Who goes on a hunt with a game system? Hunters usually get enough exercise chasing after something… or being chased, for that matter."

She glared at him. "What do you got in your duffel bag? And what do _you _do all night?"

"Uh...sleep?" Sam asked. Dean snorted, unable to tell if he was being sarcastic or not, and knowing it didn't matter; it was funny just the same. Kat didn't respond, or even indicate that she'd heard him. "I'm guessing you have all the information we need?" Sam asked nervously as he eyed the walls.

"Yea, I keep my promises," she said darkly. She reached across Dean, who had moved to stand to the left of her, and picked up a crooked knife.

"What's that?" Dean asked, eyeing the wicked looking blade.

"Ritualistic athamé. Used in Historical and Neo-Wiccan cultures to channel spiritual energy. If the demon is…low enough in the ranks, shall we say, it can even kill them. I wanted to find a knife that actually killed demons, but they're near impossible to locate," she said. "Now I'm fairly sure that you can channel other supernatural beings through the blade, you know, put them in something else? But that's only because their spiritual energy is…more palpable than others," she tried to explain, palming the blade and slipping it into a sheath and in the bag.

"So you kill two meat suits?" Dean asked in shock.

"No," Kat said quickly. "I could…draw it across your forearm, and say a phrase in Latin or a Wiccan spell and the demon would still come out. In other cultures, they'd put the demon into someone meant for death, like a convicted criminal, and then kill them both with some other means. Two birds, one stone type deal."

Sam and Dean nodded their understanding and she zipped up the bag. The three walked back out and into the lot. The wraparound parking lot housed her bike and his car, and both owners took a moment to admire the other's vehicle.

"Nice bike," Dean said truthfully, looking over the Harley.

"Nice car," she replied, looking over it. Dean saw some recognition in her eyes—another itch in the back of his mind to worry about. He knew by the time this hunt was done, he would probably have no hair. It scared him. "John'd be proud you took such good care of it," she said.

"You knew him too?" Dean asked almost sarcastically.

"He and Bobby saved my life," she said slowly, inching further away from him. "John couldn't stick around much after that, because he had kids…but, uh, we hunted together for about a year. That was back in…'05," she said, looking between the two. Dean looked almost betrayed, and Sam just looked confused.

If there was one thing Dean hated, it was being lied to. So this was where his father was when he and Sam were looking for him?

"He left me on the side of the road with my brother, saying he had to help his…help his sons. I haven't heard from him since," she said, shifting to alleviate the pull on her scars from carrying the bags.

"Well, he's dead," Dean said, harsher than he intended. She stepped back, as if afraid. Her gasp was clear and audible in the night. Sam sent an accusing glance at his brother and stepped toward her slightly.

"W-What?" she asked, her voice coming out unsure for the first time in a long time.

"You didn't know?" Sam asked, his eyes soft.

"No," she said, her voice suddenly colder. Her eyes had hardened, and her posture stiffened. "But I suppose I shouldn't be surprised."

She adjusted her saddle bags and mounted her bike. Her shoulders hunched for a singular moment, one that the boys swore they imagined. Then she sent them a biting glare.

"I'll meet you at Bobby's," she all but growled. She gripped the throttle and tore out of the parking lot, leaving the boys behind.

"Why did you have to do that, Dean?" Sam asked accusingly.

"What the hell- Sam, are you telling me you're not the least bit suspicious?" he asked, his eyebrows rising.

"Of course I am. She knows people we know, that itself is bad. But can't we give her the benefit of the doubt until Bobby clears it up?" He asked, glaring at his older brother. Dean sighed loudly, a weight settling on his shoulders.

"Did you see her eyes?" He asked suddenly.

"Yeah, why?" Sam asked, blinking from the sudden change of topic.

"They looked familiar," he said finally, unlocking the car and dumping her bags in the trunk. He slipped into the driver's seat, staring straight ahead, his mind blank, save the girl he was suddenly very sure would haunt him.


	4. Chapter 4

DEAN POV

I watched the girl drive away on the coolest bike I've ever seen.

"Dude…she was wearing an AC/DC shirt" I said, still a little out of it. "And her weapons…Mhmm…I would kill for some of those."

"Yea, I get it, you like her, moving on. I'm just saying, that the way Dad talked about her in here… it was like she was his daughter" Sam said, pointing to a line. "Look: 'I cant sleep again, because I can hear Kat screaming in her sleep. I cant look at her in the morning because I feel like a failure. I promised to help her, and I've been putting it off for as long as I can. I know that once she's done…I wont see her again, and I cant stand that thought,'" Sam flipped the page. " 'It's time for me to leave, and I know Kat can feel it. Her and Jamie cant even look at each other with out starting something and her and Blake are fighting all the time. I know she's not mine, but I'm afraid to loose her. Jamie's upset, I think because I never liked him that much. I know Kat loves him, but I don't think that he's the same as her.' What the hell does that mean. Like she's not human or something."

"Maybe they've been through different things." I tried to reason. "And if Dad trusted her like he says he did, then I'm up for it"

"It didn't sound like he trusted her…it sounded like he was her father. Over protective and worried all the time…he wasn't even like that with us"

"Yes he was…you just never saw it." I said, not liking this topic.

"And does she not know he's dead?" Sam asked. "That's what it sounded like at the Roadhouse"

"Look, I don't know. She's been separated from him for a year now, maybe she's been too underground to hear anything."

"She knows about the Apocalypse"

"So does Ash. And she said herself that she preferred the dark on this one. Maybe she never asked."

"Okay…I want to talk to Bobby first though" Sam said. I kept driving, wondering why I was sticking up for her so much.

"Did you see her eyes?" I asked suddenly, remembering the beautiful blue.

"Uh…yes?" Sam asked.

"They looked familiar." I said finally. I pulled into Bobby's a while later, still not sure where I'd seen those eyes before.

I got out of the car, and shut the door, before looking back toward the house to see that Kat had Bobby engulfed in a bone-crushing hug. Wheelchair and all. Her small frame wound around him and I could see that Bobby was struggling to hold back tears.

"Is Bobby…crying?" Sam asked as we slowly walked over.

"I think he feels the same as Dad" I answered as I watched Bobby hold her close to him.

"I thought you were dead" Bobby said, in a gruff voice.

"Me? Never," Kat said smiling.

"But Blake…?"

"Didn't make it" she answered with her head in his shoulder. I looked at Sam. You could tell that we weren't supposed to hear that. "Have you heard form Jamie?"

"No…" Bobby was holding something back, and all of us could tell, but he didn't say anything else.

"Boys." He said, then did a double take. "You know her?" He asked before pointing at Kat, who was now standing near me. We nodded. "And you didn't tell me? I thought this girl was friggin' dead and you didn't think to let me know?" He roared. He grabbed his shotgun.

"We met tonight!" Kat shouted as she put her body in between me and the barrel. Bobby put his gun down slowly. "I'll make it up to you" She said smiling.

"You'll cook? Ahh, I knew I missed you for a reason" Bobby said smiling as she leaned down to kiss his cheek before running inside. "Get her bags. Second guest room" Bobby ordered us. I nodded before going back to the car and unloading everything with Sam. We took it up to her room and put down her stuff. I unzipped one of the duffels and smiled at the assortment of skinny jeans and t-shirts.

"Dude, are you seriously looking through her stuff?" Sam asked.

"She gave us permission" I shrugged and continued to rifle through her bag. "Dude…girl boxers" I said as I smirked. "Lighten up, Sammy"

He shrugged and picked up her CD case. He flipped through them idly. "She's like the girl version of you" He held up a Metallica CD. "And. What's this?" He held up a few blank disks. I shrugged, so he walked over to the TV in the room and pushed it in and pressed play.


	5. Chapter 5

. I shrugged, so he walked over to the TV in the room and pushed it in and pressed play.

Instantly a boy of about seventeen appeared on the screen. He had black hair and brown eyes. He smiled at the screen. "Hey people of Earth! I'm Jamie and I don't know what my last name is. Okay so this is my first video log, and I'm starting this so I don't go insane. I'm honestly just glad Kat let me buy this camera since we're pretty much broke. Anyway, we're on the road, not surprising, with John. He's lookin' for this big bad demon and said he'd help us find ours, but I don't like him very much. He likes Kat too much. It's like he's her daughter. But we had a father, once upon a time, and our family doesn't need to change anymore." He trailed off looking a little bitter. "Anyway, we're in a bar right now, tryin' to get some money while we wait for the new credit cards to come in. As you can guess, John's hustling pool and Kat's playing a group of college kids in poker. They have no idea what'll hit em. So I'm sitting here kinda useless, but I do have some research and stuff." The boy faded off and trained the handheld camera on a much younger Kat. I tried not to notice how tired and sad she looked. Like she'd been to hell and back. I knew that look. I did notice how her eyes lit up when Jamie walked over to her. She put on a smile and played along with his antics with the camera, making a sarcastic comment here and there in between dealing hands.

The scene cut away to the Roadhouse. Jamie was looking into the camera again, but now he looked tired. "We just finished a wendigo hunt…it was pretty rough, but we knocked it out. We're at the Roadhouse now, and John's talking to Ellen about old yellow eyes. Kat's sweet talking some other hunter who might know something about our demon. Don't tell her I said this, imaginary person who may or may not actually watch this, but I'm kinda scared for her. I haven't seen her really smile in years…of course part of that has a damn good reason, but I was hoping she'd be better by now. We've been out for almost a year and still nothing." He paused and I thought back to the earlier part of the video. If that wasn't a real smile, she was really good at faking. And her real one must take peoples breath away, because the fake one certainly lit up the room. "I still don't like John, I mean, he's got his own kids….and he never freakin' shuts up about them. I already know everything about them and I haven't even met them yet. Tell ya what though, that Sam kid is damn lucky his dad loves him so much. In this line of work…I know I would've thought it too dangerous for him to go to school. Way too dangerous." I looked at Sam pointedly as he looked at the floor. "And Dean…I wish John'd shut up about him for once. I don't care if he was an amazing son and brother, he doesn't have to freakin' rub it in my face. I know what I did. He doesn't have t remind me. I hope him and Kat never meet, 'cause she'll fall for him faster than you can say 'muscle car'. That's another thing…I. Don't. Care. About. The. Frekin. Car. I know he's freaked out because Dean has it, but seriously it's a chunk of metal. I know Kat would find it blasphemy and I've even caught her asking John if they could check on the two of them so she could at least see the car in person. Who does that?" The CD ended and I changed it quickly.

"Just cause my car is amazing" I muttered under my breath. Sam sniggered.

"Okay, so now we're traveling with not just John, but the sweet talking hunter and his sister. Blake and Jenna. Kat and Blake are getting too close for comfort, but at least I have the assurance that they barely touch. The most they've done is hold hands and she can only manage that for a few minutes. He doesn't understand, but I do. Better than anyone. Part of me wants him to heal her, the other part knows he cant. She's been through too much for it to just disappear because some hot guy wants it to" I glanced curiously at Sam and he looked just as confused. The camera moved and walked into another room where a blonde guy and red haired girl were sitting with Dad and Kat. The blonde guy was good looking.

The scene changed again. "It's been almost three months and we've gotten almost nowhere with our demon. Azazel, yellow eyes, has at least been active. More physics are showing up all over the world, but our guys been silent. Like he's sleeping. I'm getting cabin fever here. John promised to help, but I think he's holding off because he knows that once this is over, Kat's going to leave. I know this is one of the only things that's pushing her. And it's doing it more than me. I don't know what to think anymore" Jamie hung his head.

I skipped ahead after it became obvious that he was just going to rant some more. We were ahead about six months now and nothing big had happened.

"John's going to leave. We can all tell. His kids are in trouble and none of us blame him, but I cant help but feel a little betrayed. Sure I never liked the guy, but he's the closest thing we have to a dad, and I want to go with him. Blake and Kat have been going strong, and by that I mean she finally managed to kiss him. It lasted like a half second but he thinks it's progress. I think it's her feeling guilty and trying to throw him a bone, but I'm not going to crush the poor bastard. I know once John leaves, so will I. I can barely stand to look at Kat now a days with out breaking down. It's coming close, and I cant be there when it goes to hell. I cant look at her after that."

"She's different. I know we're twins and we're even born conjoined" He held up his pinky which held a small star scar. "Forgot to mention it, we were born with our pinky's wrapped around each other. That's the only thing John found out about our pasts. Apparently, Kat came out first, but she wouldn't let go of me. When the doctor cut us loose, he sewed us up in the shape of stars. Apparently he had a sense of humor. The doctor also said that our mother, had pointed to her and said that she was different. Hell if I know what that meant, but I do know that our dad loved me more. That's bad to say, but the only thing I remember from our childhood is dad telling our mom that I was his child, but Kat wasn't. I don't even know how that's possible. Whatever, I know at some point she'll find out. And when she does…God help the world…she will be powerful." The CD ended.


	6. Chapter 6

." The CD ended.

"Wow." Was all Sam said as I slipped the disks back into the pouch. "Um, I think there's more to her than we know."

"Yes there is" Cas's voice said from behind me. We both jumped from the shock. "I must tell you, you have to be careful. After the hunt is over you cant let her leave. She must stay with you."

"How are we supposed to do that? She doesn't seem like the trusting type  
>I commented dryly.<p>

"You have no idea. I don't care how you do it, but you cannot let her leave, and believe me, if you let her die…I will kill you myself. She is much more important than you know. " He said, with more emotion in his voice than I'd ever heard from him. "And Dean, do not play her heart" He said in a deadly tone. With a flutter of wings, he was gone.

"Who shoved a stick up his feathered ass?" I questioned dryly.

"He just knows you'll try something" Sam replied looking a little pissed off. He tromped down the stairs and I followed after him, walking into the kitchen where Kat was hovering over the stove, her back tense.

"I'm just saying that you should be lookin' inta this more" Bobby was saying as we walked in. "You need to be ready, when this thing hits"

"What thing?" Sam asked, before I could even open my mouth. He was always doing that, and I had to work not to be annoyed by it.

"She's havin' some….abilities present themselves, and wants ta ignore it." Bobby grunted while Kat shot him a furious glare.

"It's nothing. Trust me" She said angrily.

"What you just did is not nothing!" Bobby roared.

"What did she do? We do have a bit a of experience with this area" I grunted.

"Oh nothing really" She said, sending me a pleading look.

"You call that nothing?" He pointed to her eyes, which seemed to be glowing brighter than ever and the breeze that was blowing through her hair. Even though the window was closed. "You just froze up. Your skin was glowing. Your spin was freakin moving!" He shouted at her.

"I know! Okay? I know! It hurt like a bitch too." She winced. "But let me get this guy first…don't you think you both have kept it from me long enough?"

Bobby sighed deeply. "You know why we had to do that. It killed us to know that you'd give up on everything after it was over. So we couldn't let it end"

"I know…I do…but I have to do this" She hugged him gently.

"I know babydoll" was his gruff reply. I turned to Sam and mouthed 'babydoll?" with a raised eye brow. Who ever this chick really was…she meant a lot to a lot of people. And those people never mentioned her. I felt lied to….because well…I was lied to.

Kat smiled a little and my breath caught. Her smile, as small and sad as it was….it was beautiful and made my heart swell. A quick glance at Sam told me he had a similar effect on her. She detached herself from Bobby and put all the plates on the table, sitting down next to Bobby, who'd just rolled his wheelchair up to the table. I sat down across from her and Sam sat next to me.

"So…." I said helpfully.

"That doesn't make things any less awkward, Batman" Kat said dryly. Bobby chuckled at the nickname and I scowled slightly, though in reality it was better than prettyboy.

"So, when are we going for it" Sam asked, referring to the hunt.

"Tomorrow afternoon. I need to do some research first and I haven't seen Bobby in a while" she said shrugging.

"Research on what?" Sam asked.

"Patterns. This is the first time he's done it from the original." She paused, as if thinking over everything she was saying. "I'm just wondering…why now? You know?"

"Yeah I got you, but trust me, the whole thing's legit" I said, jumping into the conversation. She nodded at me, then went back to eating. I Dug into my steak and potatoes and groaned in appreciation of the home-cooked meal.

"That means he likes it" Bobby said to Kat's raised eyebrow. She inclined her head toward me and went back to eating. "So, where've you been?"

"The new Roadhouse for the past two months or so. I've been living with Ash and working cases." She said.

"Cases? You're still hunting?" He wondered.

"Yes. I know you didn't want me to. But I cant give it up. This is my life" She tried to explain.

"I know, I just thought that after Blake, you'd stop" Bobby said.

"I've lost people before" She said almost coldly.

"But-"

"I'm fine. When am I not?" She questioned. Bobby sighed and hung his head.

"I'm just worried about you." Sam looked her over slowly, as if wondering what she could have possibly done to make the people in our lives love her so much. Hell if I knew. Her blue eyes suddenly landed on me.

"You've been to hell?" She asked after a long moment of silence.

"Yes" I said, not elaborating.

"What was the name of the torture master?" I blinked. That was a random question.

"Alistair" I breathed the word. Her eyes flashed and she bowed her head, as if in resignation.

"He the one?" Bobby questioned.

"Without a doubt" was her answer.

"Who?" Sam asked, confused.

"the demon y'all are huntin', ya idjit." He said sharply.

"Whoa…we're going after him?" I shouted. I was terrified. The cold twining knot in my stomach that screamed at me to pack up my stuff and move to Mexico.

"Yes." She said shortly. "You don't have to go if you don't want to" She said in an empathetic voice. I stared at her. I didn't know anyone that could be empathetic about what happened to me in hell.


	7. Chapter 7

I didn't know anyone that could be empathetic about what happened to me in hell.

"I'll go," but I won't like it. I finished eating, and grabbed another beer from the fridge before walking out the front door. I wandered around the back of the house, until I saw the swing. I tried not to think of how chick-like this was, and sat down on the swing.

I didn't want to see Alistair again. But I did want him dead. I really really wanted him dead. I had to do this and I knew it. There was no choice.

"I shouldn't ask you to do this" Kat's voice reached him and he shifted to let her sit on the swing with him.

"I have to" I sighed deeply. "But you shouldn't. this guy is more dangerous that I care to admit."

"So do I," she paused a moment and gripped her beer. "I thought you of all people would understand" her voice was harsh.

"I do, but-"

"You want to kill him? With everything in you?" She asked me, I nodded. "So do I, and I've had to wait six years. I have to do this. Either you're with me or not, I don't care. But I'm going" I looked at her, really looked at her and decided that she'd seen and been through more than she was putting out. I wasn't one to push for secrets, but this was nagging my mind like a sickness. The thought that she might be in pain.

"Okay, but you stay close to me. I won't have you getting hurt" I tried to say in the macho-est voice I could. Her smile was almost invisible, but it was there. A big part of me was proud to be the cause of it. The rest of me was disgusted I was becoming such a girl.

"promise." She said and I wondered how different she would look when she smiled. Now her eyes were hard and tired and there was no light in them. With huge blue eyes like that, there should be light. Her black hair blew in the breeze and she looked out over Bobby's car park and closed her eyes. Part of me wanted to nudge her, so she would keep her eyes open, part of me liked seeing her relaxed, and part of me thought those other two parts should shut the fuck up.

"How come we haven't met you before?" I asked.

"I don't like new people" she said softly. "I wouldn't have gotten close to your dad or Bobby, but they were in the right place at the right time".

"You know he's dead right?" I asked then smacked myself in the face for how harsh that sounded. She bowed her head.

"I'd figured, but I just kept telling myself that he was invincible"

"I know the feeling" I said drinking more from my bottle. She nodded in understanding and slumped back into the bench.

"I don't know what to do without him. I was always holding onto the thought that he was really just fine. That he needed time. That he'd come find me. It's been almost two years, I was being stupid." She shook her head and fisted her hands.

"It's not stupid. Sometimes I wake up and think that he's there or that we gotta look for him. But then I remember. And the whole time we were looking for him, I'd convinced myself he was alive." I said, "and has it been that long since you've seen your brother?"

"Yea. We got to the nearest motel and went to sleep after John left, and he was gone by the time I woke up. Took his camera and left he old disks, and left a note asking me not to look for him. I met back up with Blake and we went on hunting." She said all of this with out much emotion.

"We watched the videos" I told her.

"I could tell by the way you looked when you came downstairs. I'm sorry for the way he talked about your car. He never understood the beauty of it." She nodded toward my baby.

"Yea I was really offended." I joked…but not really.

"I can tell" She nodded. "It would be the same if someone insulted my bike"

"It is a badass bike" I said.

"You know how to ride?" She asked, looking over at it.

"No, I wish I could though." I was going to say something about her teaching me but I got the feeling she wouldn't go for the necessary touching. She just didn't seem like the type for human contact, and I didn't know how I felt about that.

"It's a one-of-a-kind feeling." She said looking fondly at the bike. "The freedom is something I'd compare flying too"

"Freedom a big thing for you?" I asked.

"You have no idea." She whispered it with a deep pain laced in it that scared me. It really did. She stood up, and nodded at me, then went back towards the house.


	8. Chapter 8

KAT POV:

'You almost told him you idjit.' I scolded myself Bobby style while walking back into the house. I almost poured my guts out to this random guy (hot guy) I didn't even know. Why? Because he was John's son and he had a nice car. I am pathetic.

I went back inside and found Bobby and Sam in front of the TV. I looked at the both of them. The way they moved around each other spoke so much. They really cared about each other and I was jealous. I've never been able to have that care-free, not caring about a hug or a slap on the back relationship. It took so long for me to even be able to look Bobby in the eye. The fact that I'm giving him hugs now is huge. And the fact that I think giving people hugs is a big deal is just plain sad.

I bet neither Sam nor Dean ever had to worry about that. I tried to squash the feeling, but it kept rising up in my chest. I finally gathered some amount of courage and went to sit on the chair next to the couch and began watching the football game. I caught Bobby's surprised look, since I was sitting closer to Sam than I would have liked. I just nodded in response.

"Hey, Sam?" I whispered over to him. He was only about a foot and a half away. He looked up and smiled warmly at me. "I'm sorry about the Boy King comment. It was harsh" His smile faded a little.

"It's okay. It's true"

"No it isn't. Not unless you give in." I paused while looking at him. "Will you?"

"Give into what exactly?" Sam asked, confused.

"Whatever it is that they have planned." I tried to explain my theory. "They wouldn't have let you live this long if you weren't good for something. Both you and Dean"

"Gotta admit, makes sense" Bobby said, jumping in to the conversation. Sam made a face.

"I'm tired of being a part of demons plans. Cant they pick some other guy next time?" He complained.

"I'm sure next time demons make a plan they'll factor in that you are a bad choice to involve." I commented dryly. "Let's just hope that next time there's an Apocalypse, we're all good and dead and the younger generation can deal with it."

"Amen" Bobby grunted. Sam chuckled a bit.

"You sound like Dean"

"I'm pretty sure I don't sound like a twenty eight year old man and I'm a bit offended by your accusation," I said with out missing a beat.

"Never mind, Dean wouldn't have that good of a comeback," Sam amended. I laughed a little and Bobby gasped a little. Had it really been that long since I'd laughed?

"I'll take the couch tonight, okay?" I changed the subject. Bobby frowned but nodded. All three hunters could offer to take the couch and I wouldn't give it up. I was just that stubborn.

Dean came back in after that and we kept watching the game. The boys got really into it, and I would have if it was just me and Bobby.

"Oh! Do you want us to change it?" Sam asked, looking over worriedly at me.

"Ha! As if. She loves football," Bobby exclaimed. Sam and Dean shared a look and I nodded. "It was all we watched when she first started living here. She got into it pretty fast. The only reason she's not shouting at the screen is cause you idjits are here."

"A chick that likes football," Dean tried out the sentence with a certain reverence. Like he a preacher would talk about God.

"And music," Sam added.

"Not just the stuff you saw. My Ipod has everything from AC/DC to classical."

"No way," Sam breathed.

"Yup. Two Steps From Hell is probably my favorite classical symphony" I said, remembering the first time I heard them. In a hospital.

"Really? Well can I borrow your Ipod while we're in the car? I've heard enough 70's rock to last a lifetime" Sam pleaded like a lost puppy.

"Yea sure. I have no problem with metal" I agreed. "Do you guys want me to ride with you and leave my bike?" I wondered about this all night.

"It'd be easier." Sam said

"But you better not dick up my car," Dean warned from his spot on the couch.

"She'd rather kill the Pope," Bobby said.

"Catholic?" Sam asked, trying to learn more about me I guessed.

"Not in particular. I just respect all religions equally," I tried to explain.

"Good. Cause, I'm not sharing a small car with a Jesus freak," Dean said.

Bobby laughed heartily from his spot. "Bout as far as you can get from one. I said she respected religion, not that she believed in it" He shook his head, knowing I'd lost anything close to faith a long time ago.

"Really? Maybe we really will get along" Dean said, smirking a little.

"Don't count your eggs before they hatch," I mumbled. Sam laughed loudly at this, since he was the only one close enough to hear me. "Hey! Idjit! Pass left! LEFT!" I shouted at the screen.

"Whoa. You sure warmed up to them fast" Bobby commented happily. I glared a little at him and went back to watching the game. Sam and Dean were still in shock.

When the boys finally trudged upstairs after many protests that he could take the couch from Sam and a grumpy, 'you chose' from Dean, I collapsed on the couch and cuddled into my blankets. I looked around the living room of my home. That's what this place always was to me. Home. Since I hadn't had or couldn't remember my only other one. Maybe once this is over, I'll find the rest of my family, and my past. I wonder if I have any aunts or uncles or grandparents. I'd never bothered to look before since I had a mission. But now it was drawing to a close and I was sure I'd keep hunting after that. But I knew I'd get lonely. And I had no plans for the future.

I used to only think as far as killing Alistair and finding the blue-eyed man. After that…I never knew. I fell asleep quickly after that.

But I wasn't asleep for long. I woke around three in the morning. Like almost every night. I'd dreamed this so many times that I'd learned to control the screams that wanted to tear their way through my throat. Now all that happened was a small whimper and a racing heartbeat. The unexplainable feeling of fear gripping my stomach like a vice and not letting go as I tried to calm myself. The sweat forming on my forehead as my mind replayed the nightmare. The flashes of the many faces he'd worn over the years, the instruments, the basement, Susie's face, Andrea's face.

I swallowed loudly and collapsed back into the couch. I sighed a little and twisted for my sketch book only to realize that it was still in the second guest room, where the boys had put my bags. I growled a little and stood up, turning on the lamp and throwing off the covers. I knew I wouldn't be able to get back to sleep at all, sketch book or not. The reason why I needed it was simple: it took away the fear. Drawing everything I was afraid to say made life easier to face. And if I was going to sit up the rest of the night, I didn't want to be afraid of every shadow.

I crept up the stairs as quietly as possible, avoiding the creaky spots in the stairs like a pro. I knew if Bobby heard me he wouldn't be surprised, since my nightmares have always induced random walks through the house for my sketch book. What I didn't know was how Sam or Dean would react. I imagine with a gun pointed at my face.

Moving towards the second door on the right, I skipped over the insanely loud floorboard and opened the door. I slipped inside and moved almost soundlessly around the room, in search of my sketch book. Finally, in the moonlit room, I saw the black sketch book. It was on the other side of the sleeping form in the bed. The snoring, sleeping form. I walked quietly to the other side of the bed, and reached down for the book. It was almost in my grasp, when a long, calloused, warm hand wrapped around my wrist. That's when I realized that the sleeping form had stopped snoring.


	9. Chapter 9

**This is the edited version. So sorry for making Bobby walk. I was a bit caught up in…everything and I wasn't paying as much attention as I should have. Sorry!**

My breathing stopped, and I tried to get my heart rate under control. I was even more terrified than I was ten minutes ago, and that was saying something. I looked down and found the hand. I followed it with my eyes up the arm and towards the face. Two green eyes, sparkling with lack of sleep, gazed up at me.

"What are you doing?" Dean demanded in a harsh whisper.

"S-Sketch Book," I managed to whisper back. I pointed with my other hand at the black book on the nightstand. Dean blearily looked at me.

"At three in the morning?"

"I h-had a nightm-mare. It helps me relax," I said, feeling stupider by the second. I watched his eyes soften at my trembling voice and his grip relaxed a little. The contact had me further on edge and my breathing was very shallow. I felt just like the sixteen year old girl Bobby and John found. Dean finally seemed to notice that his grip only scared me further and he let go. The cold air immediately attacked the now warm spot and I felt the tinniest sense of loss, but it was dominated by relief. He nodded at the book and smiled a little. I gave a jittery jerk of my head in response and grabbed it.

"Thank you" I whispered as I sprinted from the room, clutching the book and graphite pencil that was still tucked inside of it. I sat on the couch and drew until I was sane enough to pretend to sleep. Laying there, with my eyes closed, I forced my mind to focus on the blue-eyed man that made things calm.

I heard voices a few hours later. I kept my eyes closed and listened for a minute.

"I'm telling you, Sammy, she was terrified." Dean's gruff voice came through the kitchen.

"What could've had her that scared?" Sam sounded concerned.

"I don't know, but the way she looked at me…it was sad. Her voice broke. She sounded like a little girl." I tried not to hang my head in shame. I hated being that weak.

"Why was she in your room again?"

"The sketch book. She said it helped her relax after a bad dream"

"Do you believe her?" I cringed from the question.

"Yea. Just having it in her hands seemed to calm her down. You should have seen the look of relief when I let go of her." Dean paused. "Whatever happened to her to make her like this, it's really messed her up"

"What do you think she was dreaming about?" Sam asked with a careful curiosity in his voice.

"I don't know. When I'm that scared, it's because I'm dreaming of hell. Makes you wonder, what kind of hell she sees."

"Should we ask her?" I heard Bobby wheel in from outside. He'd apparently heard some of the conversation.

"No. She has night terrors. Horrible ones. She never talks about them, and you shouldn't ask. Just be happy that she's learned to control the screams" He sounded so sad that I wanted to hold him close and try to claim that I was all better now.

"Screams?" Sam asked.

"Every night for about four years. She's only recently learned to keep them under control with sketching in that book of hers. It used to be every time she slept. Now the nightmares are down to one a night." I felt ashamed. I thought I'd convinced him that I'd gotten rid of them. "She hates feeling weak. But even after them, she gets terrified. After one of those, even I can't touch her."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked.

"She doesn't like contact. At all. But after a nightmare, it scares her beyond belief. I'm surprised she let your hand stay there that long." I decided that it was time for me to wake up. I stretched like a cat and shuffled loudly. All their talking died off and I made my way into the kitchen, ignoring Dean and Sam, and kissing Bobby on the cheek. I grabbed the coffee pot and poured it into a mug. I didn't add sugar or milk, just drank it straight. I saw Sam make a face of disgust and Dean nod appreciatively.

"You know you can tell a lot about a person by how they drink their coffee," Dean said, leaning against the counter across from me.

"What's that?" I asked with true curiosity.

"Well, if you look at Sammy's coffee here…it's all milk and sugar. Clearly he is a pansy," Dean pointed to Sam, who scowled at the nickname. I chuckled a little into my cup.

"And if it's black?" I wondered

"That tells you that the person is badass. End of story," Dean smirked at me and I nodded my head at him.

"I enjoy being badass. It's better than a pansy," I admitted, suddenly realizing I was in a cutoff shirt and sweat pants. "Bobby? Is it okay if I train today?"

"Sure. Haven't gotten to see that in a long while."

"I'll just go shower and meet you out back," I said while he nodded absently. I finished my coffee and went upstairs for the showers. I spent a few minutes under the scalding water, washed myself, and got out. I dried my hair and wrapped a towel around myself. I stepped out of the steam filled room and ran straight into a firm hulking form. Sam. I looked up slowly and clutched the towel tighter.

"I'm sorry," I whispered as I watched his cheeks turn red.

"No problem. I'll just…yea," he said, stepping around me carefully and tip-toeing down the hall. I smiled a little at his back; he was cute in a big brother kind of way. I fast-walked to the guest room, checking for more attractive men I would want to embarrass myself in front of. I changed quickly into a pair of grey skinny jeans, knee high boots, and a Star Wars shirt with no shoulders. I brushed my black hair out and let it fall in loose curls. I applied a thin layer of black eyeliner and called myself done.

I walked outside and was surprised to see all of the boys outside, with guns in hand. They all took aim, and fired at their targets. All of them were bulls eyes. Even Bobby, who had his arms up much higher form his seated position. I smiled a little and approached Bobby. He nodded knowingly and let me push him back towards the woods more. The boys gave each other confused glances and us. We stayed ahead of them and reached a clearing quickly. The clearing itself was rimmed with think sheets of metal in a circle, leaving one way in. On the metal were paper cut out targets. There was also a lock box of guns for the training use only. He unlocked it and passed me a pistol to start with.

Dean tilted his head and regarded me with honest curiosity. I smiled at the two of them and held up the gun.

"Wanna see a fancy shot?" I asked no one in particular.


	10. Chapter 10

Bobby smiled and ushered the boys back through the door and slid closed a plexi-glass door. I spun the gun and clicked off the safety. (AN this shot is impossible by the laws of physics. Mythbusters proved it. DO NOT ATTEMPT. It just made for a nice badass moment) I smiled at the three of them in a menacing kind of way and stood in the very center of the circle. I held the pistol out in front of me and aimed at a target. I could hear Dean's laughter through the glass as he wondered what the hell I was doing. I brought my arm out, and swung it forward, pulling the trigger at the same time. The bullet ricocheted off the barrel and went sideways, hitting a target directly between the eyes.

Of course the whole thing was metal, so the bullet bounced off that target and moved to another. I stood perfectly still in the center of the circle as the bullet bounced on the walls around me. Finally, I jumped into the air, doing a spinning back-flip and landing to see the bullet bury itself in the ground where I'd just been standing.

Bobby broke into applause, hollering like the red-neck he truly is. I spun towards the door and curtseyed gracefully. Dean and Sam were silent imitations of one-another. Open mouths and wide eyes. Finally Dean seemed to remember that he had a voice.

"That. Was. Awesome." He shouted through the glass as I made my way back towards them. I opened the door and he barreled in. "How did you do that?"

"Practice," I replied smoothly. I tucked the pistol back into its lock box and pulled out a long sword. I twirled it effortlessly and held it ready.

"A sword?" Sam asked with a dubious expression.

"Lesson number one: You never know what you'll have available," I quoted John as I waited for them to grab their own. "Out of John's rules for hunters"

"Okie-dokie." They said in unison and picked up their own swords. Bobby stayed back to watch as I got into a ready position. The other men just stood their awkwardly holding their swords. "Do you really think Lucifer will challenge us to a sword fight?" Dean asked, trying to get out of the ass-kicking he knew he would get.

"I had to last year while fighting a vampire. It was interesting." I said, beckoning them with my sword to attack. Sam struck first, swinging in a wobbly arc toward my head. I blocked easily and twisted my hand in a small circle, the sword following the movement and knocking Sam's blade to the ground. Dean came next. He jabbed toward my chest. I side-stepped and kicked upward, sending the sword flying until I caught it deftly in my unoccupied hand. Bobby clapped again and the boys continued to stare openly.

"What are you?" Dean finally asked with a slack jaw. I smirked a little and put the swords back.

"That, my dear Batman is for me to know and you to dream about," I said, while walking back towards the house. I even swayed my hips for extra effect. I could hear Bobby stop chuckling and hit both boys over the head. I think I knew why.

I spent the rest of the day training with Bobby while Dean and Sam watched. I threw knives and shot and went through the judo throws easily, even with out Bobby as my partner. I could clearly tell that Dean was awed, but I couldn't tell what Sam thought at all. I thought it might be fear in his eyes as he watched me dodge and attack.

That evening, I curled up onto the couch with my old journal and read through all the notes I'd made. Every noticeable pattern or quirk in the way the demon tortured and questioned. I cross-referenced all of this with the information from the boys, and did a worldwide search on any other time it's happened. I sighed loudly and looked at all the papers around me.

"What?" Sam asked, looking up from his own laptop.

"This is the only other case. Why now? It doesn't make any sense," I said frustrated.

"Maybe he's trying to get the attention of the first victim," Sam tried to reason. I laughed a little hysterically.

"That girl died in the hospital," I said forcefully. It was true in a way, the girl he hurt was dead and gone. "I got the information before she died."

"Then maybe this is the first time he found another girl like her." I hung my head a little. "Are you sure it's the same guy?"

"Everything fits, except timing," I said, showing the other research, and keeping the journal next to me. I saw Sam glance at it with a burning curiosity. I shook my head at him and he smiled sheepishly.

"So…what do you think you'll do after this?" He asked trying to strike up a conversation.

"Try and figure out my last name. Find my parents graves, and see if I have any other family. Look for Jaime," I said.

"You don't know your last name?" He asked incredulously. I cringed, knowing I'd given away too much information. I knew my back story though. I'd always had to have one.

"My parents died when I was too young to remember. Jamie and I were taken to an orphanage, but our last names were never given," I explained.

"Um…how did they die?" He asked hesitantly. I swallowed. I used to say house fire, but after all that physic kid stuff, I doubted that would endear me to them.

"Car crash," I said quietly. Sam exhaled and nodded. I couldn't tell if he was relieved or disappointed. I smiled a little and started packing up my papers. "I wouldn't worry about that stuff," I said gently, he looked at me confused. "There are other people like you, I'm sure, but you don't need them to convince yourself that you're a good person. You kind find that out on your own," I finished, standing up and walking into the kitchen.


	11. Chapter 11

I opened the fridge and grabbed a beer.

"That was nice, what you did for him." I turned to see it was Dean who had spoken.

"You're welcome, now if you don't mind, I've had enough chick-flick moments to tie me over for the next year. So I'm going to drink my beer and cook dinner." I said nodding my head. He smiled brightly.

"We will definitely get along," He said, walking a bit closer. "Do need help with dinner?"

"Can you boil water?" I asked sarcastically.

"Are you kidding? I'm a cooking genius!"

I sighed. "C'mere" I waved him over and washed a raw chicken. Placing it on the cutting board, I handing him a knife. "Cut this into strips. Try not to hurt yourself"

"I think I can handle the evil chicken," he nodded seriously and began slicing while I started boiling water and heating up sauce. It was quiet for a few minutes, aside from the mutterings of "Of course I can do it…just a chicken…show her," then, "Uhh…Kat?" I turned to see him holding up his thumb, which had a long and shallow slice on it, with a thin trail of blood running from it.

I couldn't help it. I was laughing uncontrollably, doubled over the counter and unable to breath. Dean was laughing too, and I realized I couldn't see him past the tears in my eyes. something had taken over, and I was unstoppable. I couldn't bring myself to end the hysterical laughter that he and I shared as if we were two drowning people that had found a life raft and were clinging to it with all the desperation we could muster. We laughed and laughed and laughed until I was gasping for air on my hands and knees and he'd slid down the counter to sit on the floor with his beer spilling around him.

When we finally stopped, it was more out of a need to breath than anything else. After that it was quiet for a long time, and then I looked up at him.

"I can't ever remember laughing so hard," I admitted, shifting to sit comfortably on the floor.

"Me either," he agreed, staring off a little distantly. I smiled at him and got up off the floor. I washed my hands and went back to cooking. "Here, I'll help."

"Maybe you should stay over there," I warned playfully, holding out a wooden spoon as a weapon. A look of fear crossed his face; I'm sure because he knew I could actually hurt him with it.

"Calm down, now. No need to bring the spoon into this," he said jokingly with his hands up in surrender. I jabbed at him in fencing form with the spoon and flicked him with salt. "I'm not possessed!" he shouted sounding offended.

"No, but now you're tasty and preserved," I teased, before flicking the leftover salt in my hand over my shoulder.

"What was that?" He asked.

"Spilling salt's bad luck. You counter-act it with throwing a little over your left shoulder," I explained pinching some into the boiling water and adding noodles. I went to finish cooking the now sliced chicken.

"You believe in that superstitious crap?" He asked incredulous. I shrugged a little.

"Not really, but what little I remember about my childhood is dominated by my mom's superstitions. I guess I kept them up to feel close to her," I tried to explain. "I never walk under ladders, and I side-step black cats, and I carry a pentagram in my pocket, and an herb bag in my duffel."

"The pentagram I understand. What kind of herbs though?"

"Lavender, sage, thyme, rosemary, and belladonna," I listed. "I got the pentagram tattoo two years ago when the demon population grew."

"I've had one for a while," he pulled down the collar of his shirt down to the side to show the pentagram and sun-ray tattoo. "Please tell me yours is a tramp-stamp," he begged. I shook my head and swept my hair to the side. With the other hand, I pulled my shirt off my shoulder to show my own tattoo.

"I have others," I said teasingly.

"Where?" His response was immediate and his eyebrows shot up.

"Why so curious?" I asked.

"Sorry. What of?" he corrected.

"Wings on my back," I lied. "Two names on my ankle, and the name Castiel on my hip."

"What was the last one?" he asked sharply.

"Castiel. I was born on a Thursday, and my mom told me when I was little that he would always protect me. I don't know what I think of it, but she died believing it, so I got the tattoo so I wouldn't forget."

"How old were you?"

"Five when my parents died and thirteen when I got the wings, and sixteen for the other two." Again I lied. He'd never see the wings on my back, or know what they meant and who gave them to me.

"I was about four when my mom died," he said, as I swirled the pasta in the water.

"Is that why you and Sam are hunters?"

"Yes. Our dad was obsessed. Always pushing us to know everything about the supernatural, for me to watch over Sammy, for us to get the bad guy," he said sadly.

"And Sam? What does he think about John?"

"Never got on with him. Sam could never understand how much killing that bastard meant to Dad, or how dangerous it was for him to be on his own. They always fought, right up to the last time they saw each other."

"John did have that effect on people," I said dryly. "Look, John was like a father to me, just like Bobby, but we had our fair share of fights. He kept me from my demon so long…and he lied a lot…but I never lost faith in the man. Jamie never had any to begin with. I don't think he ever had any."

"You not get along?"

"I know, it's horrible, especially in this life. But when we were young, things happened to us, and Jamie didn't act. I don't blame him, I just wanted him safe anyway, but he blames himself. The guilt got worse and worse, and by the time John left, he could barely look at me."

"Are you going to look for him after this?"

"I don't know, I want to, but I doubt that anything will have changed."

"Okay, no more chick flick moments, right?" Dean said with a smirk. I nodded in appreciation.

"Twenty questions?" I asked, still cooking.

"Sure, Favorite color?"

"Red, you?"

"Blue" He smiled, "Your first time?" my small smile dropped. I knew the question would come up, but it still caught me off guard.

"Just some guy in high school. Didn't mean anything, I don't even remember his name." I shrugged and prayed it was convincing. He nodded.

"Same story for me, cept a girl"

"Aww, you had me all excited that I'd finally made a gay friend." I fake pouted. He deadpanned.

"Every time we walk into a diner, and me and Sam argue, the damn waitress tries to give us 'relationship advice'. Apparently I'm over domineering, and should let Sammy breath in our relationship, so I don't loose him to another guy." I cracked up again, unable to control myself.

"Gas to get from Louisville to Superior: $24, apple pie from Bills Diner: $5, the look on your face when you talk about the waitress playing Ms. Matchmaker with you and your brother: priceless," I said still chuckling. Dean chuckled too, though he was trying not to.

I finished the chicken, and strained the noodles. I put them both in a dish and poured sauce and cheese over it. I giggled a little as Dean's stomach rumbled.

"Okay, let's see your hand," I said, reaching for Bobby's first aid kit. I swallowed my fear, and wiped his hand with rubbing alcohol. I gingerly held his hand, as I put Neosporin on the cut and sealed it with a Band-Aid. "Better than whiskey, a barrette and a lighter, I'll tell you that much," I said packing the supplies away.

"You don't seem to put the same care into your wounds," Dean observed, pointing to my stitches. I shrugged and doused it in rubbing alcohol before screwing the cap back on. "We're you joking when you said you liked the pain?"

"Pain let's you know you're alive," I said in a monotone, grabbing the dish and putting it on the table.


	12. Chapter 12

. "BOYS! Come and get it!" I shouted. Sam rushed in the kitchen and sat quickly, Bobby came trumping in a second later.

"It smells so good," Sam said, scooping a huge amount onto his plate. "I've been waiting for it to be done for forever!"

"We'll when you're cooking for an army, it takes a while," I said loading up my own plate.

"I'll miss your food tomorrow night," Bobby said sadly.

"Don't worry, before we go I'll cook up all your favorites and ice them, so they can last you until I get back."

"You better come back this time, don't be a stranger," he said in a commanding voice.

"I promise. This place is my home," I said, ducking my head.

"Damn right it is," he said gruffly.

"Don't mind us, we're just intruding on a father -daughter moment," Dean spoke up and I nodded thankfully. I was kind of over the chick flick moments.

"You just wish I loved you as much as I do her," Bobby said in a snarky voice. Dean grimaced and I wondered for moment if that were true. I dismissed the thought as he laughed loudly and fake punched Bobby. Bobby smiled warmly and winked at me. I blinked slowly wondering why the hell he was winking and then I realized I'd been staring at Dean. I blushed the smallest of blushes and looked away. I didn't miss Bobby's soft chuckle.

SAM POV

Later that night, I went down stairs to get a glass of water and heard Bobby and Kat talking. I stood quietly to listen, just out of the burning curiosity that consumed me when ever she was around.

"Heard you laughing," he said. I smiled, I'd heard her too. She had a musical kind of laugh, the kind people loved to hear.

"I don't know what happened, but I've never felt that good. Is that how normal people feel all the time?" Her voice held a note of wonder in it. How could she not know what it felt like to laugh like that? What had happened to her to make her this way?

"I don't know kiddo. But I'm proud of you, you seem to have accepted the boys." I smiled bigger, it seemed like we were special.

"Yea, I don't know how far it goes, but I like them."

"And you're given' them some type of hope they're not used to," he said.

"They need it."

"But still, you're the only one that's sayin' what they need to hear."

"I'm not a motivational speaker, I'm just telling the truth," she said. "I don't want to be made out a hero"

"But you are one," Bobby said. I didn't even know her, and I was almost sure I agreed.

"Only to you," she said in a sweet voice. I gave up my water, and instead went back upstairs to my guest room. I had nothing to do, so I browsed over the books in the room. I stopped on a picture album. I'd never bothered to look in there before, so I picked it up and went back to the bed.

"What are you looking at?" I looked up and saw Dean resting against the door frame. I waved him over.

"Photo album," I said, turning to the first page. Bobby's wedding photo. His wife was a beautiful woman with a kind and sweet smile. There were a few more of them, and then a lot of Bobby's old dog, and then a picture of a young girl. She had short black hair that rested at her chin, and huge blue eyes.

The girl herself was standing on crutches outside of a hospital and was sickly pale and skinny. She wasn't really smiling. It was more of a pull of muscles. She had on plain jeans and a white shirt. You could just see the medical gauze wrapped around her torso through it. Her arms were also heavily bandaged and there was a thin cut on her cheek.

The caption underneath the photo was simple: Kat, two weeks after meeting. On way to recovery.

"It looks like she was hit by a truck!" Dean said.

"If only." We turned to see Bobby in the doorway. He was looking sadly at the album. It was clear from the way he stood that we weren't going to learn what had happened to her.

"Can she hunt?" Dean asked, obviously thinking the same. "We have to know before we go in there."

"Better than almost any hunter out there. Saves more innocents too. And if she doesn't hit her mark, she keeps trying until she does."

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"She never gives up a hunt. Ever," He said simply. Dean swallowed. She really had been after this thing for that long?

"And she's sure it's Alistar?" I asked tentatively. As far as I knew, I'd killed him. But maybe Ruby had lied about that too and I'd just sent him back to hell. I was an idiot to trust that bitch.

"Positive. She knows this guy."

"Bobby? Can we trust her?" Dean asked the question we needed to know.

"With your lives. With your souls. It doesn't matter, she'll have your backs," he said with the tone of a proud father. He really loved her. I had no idea how I felt about that.

Bobby left the room after that, taking the photo album with him. When he was gone I got out my cell and dialed.

"Ash?" I put the phone on speaker.

"What can I do you for, Sam-O?" his twang sounded in my ear.

"How do you know her?" I got straight the point.

"She pulled up to the new Roadhouse on a Harley. I'd seen her a few times with John but she'd never talked. It was easy to tell she was alone, and she just told us that Blake was dead. Every hunter in the bar knew Blake…mostly cuz he owed most of us money. She said she couldn't see Bobby right then, so I let her share my office. She didn't mind. I'd thought that she'd stopped hunting, but she hadn't. She made me promise not to call Bobby, she said it would be better if she just left and never came back. Started talking about Europe. I convinced her to stay, but she said she couldn't go to Bobby after Blake. She thought it was her fault." Ash said all of this in a way that you could tell that he missed her.

"Her past?" I asked, unconsciously leaning toward the phone.

"Found her journal, and couldn't help myself. I wish I'd had some self control," he sounded ashamed.

"Was she mad?" Dean asked.

"No, just disappointed. And let me tell you boys, disappointed is a hella lot worse than mad," he said sadly. We hung up and I turned to Dean.

"I want to read her journal," I said flatly. Dean's eyes widened and he shook his head violently.

"No. That was one of the only things she said we couldn't look at. I already trust her enough." His eyes spoke more than that. He'd already judged her character. And she passed.

"I liker her too, but we can't risk going on the road with someone, when we know nothing about them!"

"It's not that! It's that I made a promise not to invade her privacy. Maybe the reason she doesn't freakin' advertise her past is because it's painful! Ever think about that?" He asked accusingly. I flinched a little.

"No. I just want to be sure…" I trailed off, not knowing where I was going. She already had the approval of Bobby, and Dad, and Ash for that matter. There was no way she wasn't a trustworthy person. I was just so curious.

"No. We're not doing it and that's final. When she wants to tell us she will." Dean said harshly. I nodded sullenly. I wouldn't, mostly because I knew her privacy was for a reason.

Dean left and I was alone.


	13. Chapter 13

The next morning I got up and sleepily made my way into the kitchen. The smells were intoxicating. I blearily looked and found Kat cooking dozens of dishes, and stashing them in the freezer when she was done. In between slicing steak and pulling out baked potatoes, she downed a sip of beer.

"Isn't it kind of early for that?" I asked, leaning against the door frame. She jumped a little and glanced my way.

"Thought you were Dean," she muttered. "And no…I've been up for a while."

"Do you always have nightmares?" I couldn't help but ask.

"Yes. Every night." There was no emotion in the way she said it. It was like she was talking about the weather.

"I get bad ones too, sometimes," I said, feeling the need to empathize with her.

"I'm sure after what both of you have been through, there are bound to be nightmares." She said kindly.

"How do you deal with them?" I asked, wanting some sort of advice.

"I don't," she whispered. "I draw out everything I can, all my fears all my doubts…but they still come back."

"I still dream about Jess sometimes," I confessed. "I don't tell Dean because he doesn't need anything else to worry about." Her shoulders tensed and her breathing was harsh for a minute.

"They don't stop. Don't expect them too," She said slowly. "Your brother has a lot of responsibility…but he'll want to know that about you. You both need each other."

"I just can't imagine doing this my whole life. Having these dreams…having them get worse."

"There isn't a choice anymore, Sam, it was thinking like that that led you to Ruby," she said boldly, finally turning to look at me. Her eyes were haunted and bleak.

I couldn't speak. I didn't know how she knew…but Bobby probably told her. She knew I was a monster. The monster.

"I do not blame you for what you have done," she started, "But you must start to think through your decisions. They could harm more people than you can ever imagine."

"What would you know about that?" It was mean. And a low blow. I didn't know anything about her…I had no idea how the question would affect her.

"Too much," she whispered. She turned her back and went back to cooking. I slumped into a chair.

"I'm sorry. I always say stupid things like that."

"It's okay." Her voice was soft and I wondered how the hell she managed to get into this life.

"We'll probably leave around ten, okay?" I changed the subject. She nodded a little and packed up another dish in a plastic container.

"Well. This doesn't look like an awkward conversation at all," came Dean's deep voice. I watched Kat's back relax at the sound of his voice and then the shake of her head. As if she was frustrated with herself for having that reaction to him. She turned back around to face him, but in that instant, her hand glided across the counter and glanced off a knife poking out of the sink. It had a small russet colored stain on it.

Her body went stiff again, but this time not of her accord. Her eyes glowed a beautiful bright blue and landed on the knife. They went to a band-aid on Dean's thumb a second later. A non-existent breeze blew her dark hair behind her shoulders, making it snarl around her face. Then, Dean and I watched as through her shirt, her spine began to shift and move under her skin. We could see the swaying movement, just under the fabric. Her mouth had opened in a silent scream of agony and her whole body was shaking.

Dean ran across the kitchen and removed her small hand from the knife. When the contact was broken, her body slumped downward. Dean only held on long enough to be sure she wasn't hurt, and then let her rest on the cool tile floor. Her eyes had closed and I was both relieved and disappointed. They were both beautiful and frightening, like some alien force.

Dean's face was annoyingly calm; he just moved away from her and rested against the counter. She slowly blinked her eyes open, now their usual, but still vibrant, blue. She unsteadily wobbled up onto her feet.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, like a child who disappointed their parents.

"No no no, don't be sorry," Dean said softly. I winced, it had been years since he'd talked to me in that voice. "What happened?"

"I don't know. That's only the second time…I…I don't know." Her eyes flitted around the room, like a caged animal.

"What brought it on the first time?" I asked, so curious as always.

"Uh…I touched something…I don't remember what. Can we just forget about this for now?" She asked, her voice growing stronger.

"Uh, do you think that's safe?" I asked.

"Just until we finish this. Please?" She turned and gave me puppy dog eyes. I caved instantly. I don't even think mine are that bad.

"Okay…but only until then," I said with as much force as I could. She nodded gently and went back to cooking. Dean moved to help her, but settled on packing away the already cooked meals. I watched as they moved around each other, unconsciously allowing the other space and orienting themselves to the other person. I had never seen people do that.

"Morning. You making all this for me?"

"No. The bi-polar tooth fairy that lives in your panic room," she said sarcastically. Bobby's eyes widened.

"How does that damn thing keep gettin' in there?" He asked himself gruffly. Kat giggled to herself and shrugged, and Bobby got that proud look on his face that told us that he meant to make her laugh. She inclined her head to him and her hair fell in front of her face. Dean looked like he wanted to move it, but knew that she wouldn't like him to touch her. So instead he finished packing up a baked chicken and putting it in the fridge.

"We'll be leaving after breakfast," I told him, beginning to load up the plate Kat had set aside for me.

We all ate and I could tell that Bobby was really sad to see her go. I looked at Kat and noticed that she'd hardly eaten anything. She just picked absently at the bacon and drank her water.

"Are you not going to eat?" I asked, confused. Why would she cook so much…if she wasn't hungry?

"Oh, I'm not hungry," she said looking over her small plate. She looked back up at me and eyed my half-empty plate. "You should finish yours though, you need your strength. C'mon, eat up."

I don't ever remember having anyone aside from Dean tell me something like that. I went back to eating gladly. Dean gave her a curious look and I figured he noticed too. Bobby gave her an approving nod and she inclined her head in response. She finished her small meal and stood up.

"I'm going to get my stuff and say goodbye to my baby," she said walking into the other room. A few minutes later she came back down with her two duffels and her sketch book. We saw her out the window, laying her hand on her bike, stroking it affectionately. I saw her mouth moving and I knew on some instinct that she was talking to it. Promising it she would come back. I saw Dean smile brightly, probably because it was another thing they had in common.


	14. Chapter 14

KAT POV:

"Baby girl…I'll be back. But I'm finally going to get this guy. Maybe I'll be able to sleep easier. Maybe I'll be able to touch people with out being afraid. I don't want to be afraid, baby girl, not anymore. I want to be normal. Just normal." I whispered to my bike. The sleek leather of the seat felt like home. I didn't want to leave her behind, but I had to.

I stood up slowly, letting my fingers trail along the handle bars. I walked to the car, taking in the way the sun glinted off of it. A lot like the first day I saw it. And now I was getting in it again. This time driving toward the bump in the night, instead of away from it. Dean walked out first, his green eyes glowing softly in the mid-morning light. He smirked at me, and I walked closer. Sam came out next, his large frame moving toward the passenger's side with determination. Bobby had obviously talked to them. The man himself wheeled himself out last. His eyes already shinning. I practically ran to him, like I imagine a small child would run to a parent after a nightmare. And then, my arms were around his wheelchair and my head was in the crook of his neck. I breathed in his musky scent and nuzzled into him.

"Take care of my baby," I commanded. He chuckled slightly.

"I promise," he said gruffly. "You promise to come back now."

"Every chance I get…and all the ones in-between."

"That's my girl," he whispered. I chuckled and detached myself from him. "Bye babydoll." I got in the back of the car and settled into the long seat. I kept my sketch book on the floorboard and got comfortable. It had been a long time since I was in this car. I pulled out my graphite pencils and wondered what to sketch as we drove off of Bobby's lot. I looked up and around at my surroundings and my eyes settled on the rear-view mirror, where I could just see Dean's face. His hands firm on the wheel and his eyes distant and hard. Perfect.

I started drawing, trying to get the curve of his green eyes perfect. His long hands on ten and two and his army-green mechanics shirt creased in the correct places. I colored it sparingly, where most of it was shades of grey, except for his eyes. They were the same bright ringed green as Dean's.

It took about an hour to finish, and during that time, Sam had fallen asleep with my IPod and Dean and I were still singing along to Black Sabbath. When I was finished I smiled at the picture and put my pencils down.

"You done? I thought you'd never finish," Dean said in a slightly grumpy voice as he turned down the music.

"Don't get pissy," I admonished, looking back over my work.

"What did you draw that took so damn long anyway?" He questioned, pulling into a gas station. "Show me, then I'll go get food," he commanded.

I smiled cheekily and flipped the page over, letting him take it in. Sam jerked awake, realizing that the car had stopped. He looked around blearily then his eyes rested on the drawing. He gasped.

"How did you get a picture of Dean?"

"I drew it," I said, looking at Dean who was still staring.

"Really?" Sam asked almost skeptically. I nodded and he and Dean continued looking over it.

"Do I really look that…?" he didn't finish, probably because Sam was in the car. He took the hint and stepped out of the Impala, mumbling something about getting a candy bar. "Broken?"

"No…but I can still see it," I said gently. He blinked.

"How?" he asked.

"I know what it's like to have to pretend you're okay," I said quietly. "Hey, get me some gummy bears while you're in there," I commanded getting comfortable in the seat again.

He nodded absently and got out of the car. Sam came back a minute later with a Hershey's bar.

"So…" he started.

"Yes Sam, I'll draw you next," I said smirking at him. He blushed and nodded jerkily. I glanced back up at him, trying to get the angle of his nose right.

"Stop blushing, it's screwing with your coloring," I said teasingly. He blushed a deeper red. Dean came back a moment later with a Coke and two candy bars. I was about to ask about my gummy bears, when he threw them at me. I smiled my thanks and both boys gave quizzical looks. Bobby probably mentioned how very little I smiled, even a small one like that. But they were different. They made it easier to pull the unused muscles around my mouth into a smile. Jamie would be proud.

Dean started the car again and I went back to drawing Sam, trying to get his eyes to show the strong and self-hating man in front of me. I flicked my wrist out to get rid of the tension and returned to paper. I think Dean was driving carefully for the sake of the picture.

"Dude, why are you blushing?" Dean asked, glancing at his still red brother.

Later that night, we decided to pull into a motel. I got out of the car, and immediately went to the trunk, unloading my two duffels and my guitar case, which I had gotten from Bobby's. I waited while the boys got rooms and checked that my acoustic was okay from the ride. When Dean walked back out I put my stuff in the adjoining one-bed room and leaned the case against the door frame.

"Why do you have that thing?" Sam finally asked, unable to contain his curiosity.

"I'm almost out of cash," I said, walking to my other duffel and pulling out the clothes I wanted. I unzipped the inside zipper and found the clothes I reserved for cons. I smiled a feral smile and walked to the bathroom. After a quick shower, I dressed and did my make up and hair, curling the black locks around my face perfectly. I rolled my neck and practiced my smiling and stumbling on the four-inch stiletto knee-high boots. I had to look convincing for this to work. I added red lip-stick and exited the bathroom


	15. Chapter 15

DEAN POV

She took forever in that damn bathroom. The water went off quick enough, but how damn long does it take to get dressed? I was lounging on the bed closest to the door, my bed, and idly flipping through Dad's journal. When the door finally opened, both Sam and I looked up.

An angel was standing there. And I didn't mean Cas.

She had on white skinny jeans, with black leather boots over the top of them that stopped at her knees. The shoes added another four inches to her five-foot height and emphasized her perfect legs. She had on a black corset like top that laced in the front, a little red bow sitting just at her cleavage. The top was the perfect cut and left just the right amount to the imagination. She topped it with a leather jacket covered in zippers and had just enough worn edges for you to see she wore it a lot.. Her midnight black hair was curled beautifully around her shoulders and ending in the middle of her back. Her bright blue eyes were ringed with black eyeliner and a smoky shadow. And her lips…god those lips. The perfect red and shape and god…those lips.

"K-Kat?" Sam muttered, not coherent. I blinked, trying to see if he was right. And if you looked carefully and tilted your head to the right and squinted real hard, you could just see the tough hunter that wore chains on her jeans and didn't bother with make-up.

"Where the hell do you think you're going dressed up like that?" I demanded, sounding like an over protective boyfriend.

"The closest bar with a live band," She said confidently. She pranced past the two of us and gripped her guitar case.

"We're coming too," I informed her, grabbing my keys and heading out the door. She nodded and slid into the back, lounging out and clicking opened her case. She had a nostalgic look on her face as she ran her slim fingers over the neck. "What are you planning exactly?"

"Just watch and stay out of the way. No matter what I say or do, you stay out of it," she commanded.

"What the hell?" That was the only thing I could think to say.

"Just trust me," she said. I nodded and pulled up to a bar. She jumped out and stumbled in; I could have sworn she was drunk. Her heels were nearly slipping from under her with each step, and she let loose a tipsy giggle. She sat down at the bar, directly in front of the working barman. He was about twenty with bleach blonde hair and brown eyes. He looked like a douche, but she was flirting it up. Sam and I found seats on the corner of the bar and pretended to be watching the in house band.

"You new 'round here?" The man asked, cleaning a glass.

"Yessir! Just rolled in today and was lookin' for some fun," she giggled girlishly. "Gimme some whiskey, mister…?"

"Ryan, just Ryan," he said, giving her a shot. Sam and I watched in fascination as her slim fingers gripped the shot glass and she tipped it back, not even wincing as the liquid hit her throat. "Woah…"

"Like I said, I was lookin' for a good time," she said seductively, waiting for another shot and stringing out her words. He served her another, then another and they continued to flirt. About a half-hour in, Kat was smashed…or pretending to be smashed, I couldn't tell.

"Maybe you should come home with me," Ryan said, reaching a hand out to steady her wobbly form. She giggled again but it was interrupted by a hiccup.

"Mmk! But wait! I wanna sing first!," she leanded over the counter towards him. "How bout if the crowd likes me…I get all the money in the register and your number," she said.

"And if they don't?" He asked, knowing that these people wouldn't cheer for her just because she was beautiful.

"You can have me for a night. As much of me as you want," she purred into his ear. My arms tensed around my beer and I might have been shaking. Sam's face had hardened and he made to stand up. I laid a hand on his shoulder.

"We promised," I said in a strained voice. He nodded and sat back down. Ryan had agreed and moved her up to the stage.

"Hey guys! My friend wanted to sing a song for you guys! Be brutally honest, for my sake!" He joked into the microphone. Kat was with the band, holding her guitar and telling them what song she wanted. They gestured and she nodded. She put down her acoustic and grabbed one of their electrics and I wondered why she brought the other one at all. She stumbled up to the lead mike and gripped her guitar. Her whole demeanor changed and she held it like it was second nature. Her body was straight and confident and her eyes were sharp. She wasn't giggling.

Suddenly she jumped up in the air, bringing both of her knees up, before slamming down onto the stage while playing the first cords. I recognized it as a Simple Plan song Sammy liked. She played the heavy cords and shook out her curly hair, so that it flowed provocatively around her body. She built up the chorus, her voice like water over rocks, flowing effortlessly in the air

"I don't wanna think about you,

Or think about me.

I don't wanna figure this out.

I don't wanna think about you

Or think about nothing

Don't wanna talk this one out.

I wont let you bring me down, cause I know.

I don't wanna think about you. Think about you!"

I'd never heard a voice like that. Never. It was so wholly good and pure and beautiful. Like air or _something _bigger than what we knew.

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" I looked to see Cas. He was watching her with a proud look, and a certain reverence that I didn't understand.

"Have you heard it before?" I asked, noticing that Sam had moved to the front of the crowd.

"Many angels have. Her voice calls to us for some reason, and many of us have stopped to listen to her. It is better when she sings a slow song. We all stop when she sings a slow song," he said, watching her move on the stage.

"Why?" I didn't need to ask. Her voice was one of a kind, even I could tell.

"Most of us are not sure, but an archangel once told me it's because her voice reminds us of what it's like to be in God's presence." I smiled, now_ that_ was cool.

"When will you meet her?" I asked. Cas looked down.

"In due time," he said, sounding nervous.

"Are you worried you won't make a good impression?" I teased. He deadpanned. "Why does her opinion matter? I'm pretty sure I recall you not giving a flying damn what I thought of you."

"It just does!" he said forcefully. I held my hands up in surrender and dropped it. I looked back to her and watched her sing with her eyes closed and her hair falling in her face.

"Run Away, Run away!

Don't wanna think about you!

Run Away Run away!"

The song faded out as she held down the last note. She bowed for the screaming crowd and skipped off the stage, grabbing her guitar as she went. She went straight to the bar, ignoring the crowd and even Sam. Kat sat down on her same stool and smiled at Ryan. His mouth was still open.

"You hustled me!" he shouted.

"I did not!' She said back in such a hurt voice I wanted to comfort her. He sighed and handed over the money form the register as well as his number. She downed another shot of whiskey and stood up, cradling the cash to her chest and walking out of the bar. I only distractingly noticed that Cas had left. Sam and I followed her out where she was sitting carefully on the hood of the impala, counting her money.

"Next motel's on me," she said impishly.

"How much?" I asked, shooing her off my baby. She stepped off careful not scratch it.

"Dude, like a thousand. What kind of idiot does that?" she asked, slipping it into her bra. Sam averted his eyes, but I didn't. She glared at me, noticing it. Her eyes flitted behind me and she smirked. Before I could say anything, she'd walked passed me and towards an ABC store. She came back out a moment later with a full bottle of whiskey.

"How can you drink more?" Sam asked incredulously. She shrugged, opening the bottle with her teeth and getting into the back of the impala.

"I don't get drunk," she answered tipping the bottle back and taking a long draw.

"Everybody has a limit," I said, aching for a sip myself.

"Not me."

"Then why drink it at all, all hunters I know drink to get drunk," I said, pulling up to the motel. We all got out and walked in. She only shrugged in response and I knew that was all we would get out of her.

She went straight into her adjoining room and closed the door. She didn't even offer me any whiskey.

"I wanted some," I whimpered sadly, crashing onto the bed.

"You are so weird," Sam said, glancing at me oddly.

"She didn't even offer. That cut me deep. Cut me real deep." I stripped off my shirt and tucked ruby's knife under my pillow.

"How am I even related to you?" Sam ranted, getting underneath his covers. I didn't respond, just laid back and closed my eyes. I silently hoped that the whiskey was terrible.

I didn't wake again until three, according to the cheap alarm clock by my bed. I rolled over and glared sleepily at the thin motel wall. The yellow light was seeping from underneath the doorframe, as well as sudden flashes of white light. Also automated gun shot noises on low volume. I grumpily stood, shaking off the blankets and stumbling towards the door. I passed Sam. Damn kid could sleep through anything.

I opened the door, fully prepared to yell at her to shut the fuck up, but I stopped short. Kat was standing there, her hair in a pony tail and in sweat pants and a large t-shirt. She held a plastic gun in her hand and her eyes were trained on the screen in front of her. She stood in perfect position and only shot at the perfect times at the terrorists on the screen.

I could have said a lot of things at that moment. But what I did say was;

"Where did you get a Wii?" She jumped violently and turned sharply to face me, the plastic gun now staring me in the face. "Don't shoot!" I joked, trying to get a smile out of her. She glanced at the toy in her hands and lowered it slowly.

"It's been in my duffel."

"And you didn't think to share?" This girl has no manners.

"Would you like to play?" she asked nicely. I nodded impishly and she changed the game to two player and handed me a gun.

"Why are you up?" she asked.

"Might have been the light or the noises," I said sarcastically. She flinched slightly.

"Sorry, but my sketch book wasn't enough." She shrugged offhandedly. "I needed to shoot something."

"Got a high score on this thing?"

"Never miss," she said, as if that explained it. And I guess it kind of did. I stood next to her and leveled the gun to the screen.

"Rules?"

"Point and shoot." She paused a moment. "Only the one with guns. Don't hit civilians."

"Easy enough."

"And don't die. They have guns for a reason and they can use them."

I nodded seriously and shot at some crazy guy in a leather jacket with a chain saw. She took out three more at the edge of her screen and I shot more. Neither of us missed. It got more heated, both of us trying to get the upper hand and come out with a perfect score. There was a thin film of sweat on both of our foreheads from the pressure and my fingers were beginning to cramp. It looked like we would come out with even scores. A tie. Until of course…I shot some blonde chick. With out a gun. I cursed and tried to readjust my aim to another grenade thrower, but the game ended. She won.

"Damn you!" I whisper-shouted, trying to not wake Sam up. She glanced at me and smirked, rolling her head on her shoulders. I heard the cracks and cringed a bit. She sighed in content and put her plastic gun away.

"You should get back to sleep," she said appraising me critically. "You wouldn't have hit that girl if you weren't tired." She said this as if giving me some small prize.

"You should be just as tired," I reminded her.

"I've gotten used to only a few hours of sleep," she shrugged as if it meant nothing. "I'm lucky to get more than five."

"Have you ever had a full nights sleep?"

"Once. About a year ago on my birthday. It was a weird dream, though," she said her eyes growing distant as she thought about it.

"What was it about?"

"Some guy with these familiar blue eyes and a trench coat," she said smiling at the memory. "It was a nice trench coat."

My eyes widened and I stared at her. She had a dream…about Cas. What. The. Hell. I wonder if Cas knew. Maybe he did it on purpose. "Did you learn his..uh..name?"

"No, he didn't really talk much." She didn't seem to mind that though.

"How did you feel in the morning?"

"Lazy," she said with a straight face. I chuckled at her and she giggled a bit back. I think Bobby was wrong. Sure she didn't smile a lot, but she was fine with me. She was normal and almost childlike with me. Bobby said she never warms up this fast. She blinked and seemed to remember how we got on topic and shooed me out of the room. "Sleep. Now."

"Fine. Bossy," I teased closing the door behind me softly. I looked over at the hulking form that was Sam and slipped under my sheets. I was out before my head hit the pillow.


	16. Chapter 16

The next morning I couldn't help but smile at Kat like I knew something no one else did. Sam noticed, of course, and kept shooting me curious glances…which I ignored. When we had packed up and gone out to the car, I watched Kat approach the car. I'd noticed the reverence and content that she had when she was around it. I wondered when she saw it first, and why she loves is so much. I knew why I loved it. It was obvious. She was my baby, after all, but I'd never met another person who cared for it the same way I did. It was nice to see a woman care about her. Not that I'd tell Kat that. Or let her drive my baby. That's never going to happen.

"Can I drive?" she asked hesitantly, looking wantonly at the impala. I was about to answer with a sharp 'no' when she continued. "I had no idea how to drive when they found me. I barely knew anything about anything." She didn't seem to be realizing how faraway she looked. Maybe she didn't even know she was talking. "John taught me how to drive one weekend. Said that you and Sam were at a motel nearby. Brought out the impala and told me if I crashed he'd kill me. He wouldn't have had to try too hard at that point." Sam had sat down in the passengers seat and taken to just watching her. He seemed to be taking in everything about her. How her hair blew around her face and the way the early morning light made her eyes look even more blue. I was noticing all this too, but even more the way her lips moved when she spoke and the way her eyes never left the car.

"Fine." I have no idea what possessed me to say it. Maybe it was the forlorn way she was eyeing the steering wheel. Maybe it was the fact that she knew my father. Maybe it was just because she wanted too, and it hurt to say no.

Sam's eyes looked as if they might fall out of their sockets and I couldn't blame him. Honestly, he was lucky he was even allowed to sit in my baby. But to let someone else drive it? It was so far out of my comfort zone that it literally hurt me to hand over the keys. I did it anyway though, and glared at Sam until he moved the back seat. He flashed me his bitch face as I slipped into the passengers seat. I looked around interestingly.

"It looks weird from this angle," I informed Sam, sitting back. Sam grunted in response and I looked over to Kat. She was sliding slowly and deliberately into the driver's seat. Her eyes flitted over every aspect of the car, taking in the army men jammed in the back seat and the worn patches on the steering wheel. She put the key in the ignition and turned it, visibly relaxing as the engine grumbled to life. Her eyes held nostalgia as she gripped the steering wheel and looked in the rear view. She pulled out slowly and carefully, holding it so gingerly it seemed as though she thought it might break.

"Don't hurt my baby," I grumbled, still sitting up straight to watch her carefully. Her eyes flashed to me once and she nodded, taking me seriously and understanding. When we got on the back road Sam had mapped out earlier, her hands tightened on the wheel and her foot pressed harder on the gas. She rolled down her window and put on a pair of sunglasses. The cheap kind from a Wal-Mart or something. She turned on the radio and turned up 'Wayward Son'. She was pushing 75 and singing along and I felt like I was intruding on a private moment. Like she was reliving a part of her life that I had no part in. By the stunned look on Sam's face, he felt the same.

"Maybe ease up on the gas," I suggested lightly, seeing her hit 80.

"Calm down John!" she said teasingly. Then suddenly she realized what she said and slowed down to 55. "sorry," she squeaked.

"You really knew him well, huh?" Sam spoke up from the back. She nodded gently, her eyes glassy.

"Yea." She didn't take her eyes off the road and I kept watching her. "Brought me out on a back road near Bobby's and let me drive the baby. He uh…he knew I loved the car and I needed to learn to drive. I'd spent the last month or so in the hospital, learning everything I could about well…everything, and he knew I needed a break from it all. He wanted me to be a teenager."

"Why were you in the hospital?" I asked before I could stop myself. She flinched, but her hands remained steady.

"He and Bobby found me…after something happened. I was barely alive. The hospital was necessary, and Jamie stayed with Bobby while I was there." I couldn't wrap my head around her needing anybody, much less a hospital. She was jus the strong type of person, even barely knowing her you could tell.

"What did you mean by learning everything?" Sam asked.

"I…didn't know what was going on in the world. I had to catch up on a lot. I needed to know more about hunting and demons. I had to jam a lifetime of education into about three months," she said. I was afraid to ask anything else, she had never been this open with us and I didn't want to break the spell.

"How does that even happen?" I asked.

"When you had the kind of childhood I had…well let's just say it was a miracle I knew how to read," she said sadly. I gaped openly and I was sure Sam was doing the same. Her eyes were still trained on the road in front of her but her cheeks sported a flush. Whether she was embarrassed for her past or mad at herself for saying it, I didn't know. Her pale hand reached out and turned the music up, ending conversation with the heavy rock station.

I let her drive for almost four hours. The whole time I was watching her. Her body was relaxed in everyplace but her spine. It was rigid, like she was trying to hold something off. She looked at me every few minutes, trying to make me uncomfortable with my staring. I didn't look away though. When she finally pulled up to a gas station just outside of Maine, she got out, got gas, and moved to the passengers seat. It was as if she could sense that I wanted to be behind the wheel again and she accepted it. Sam was more than asleep. I think the actual term is passed-the-fuck-out. He didn't even wake up to stretch his gigantor legs like he usually does.

Kat walked back to the car after going into the gas station. She opened the door but didn't get in. I looked at her questioningly but she shook her head. She reached into the plastic back from the store.

"Sasquatch…..Sasquatch….I got you a candy bar," she said, holding up a Hershey's bar. Sam grumbled something unintelligible. "Prettyboy. You can sit in the front. I know your legs must hurt by now." Sam blinked and slowly moved from the back, making faces as he stretched his sore muscles. He took the chocolate and settled into his seat. The look of relief on his face said that he appreciated the return to a semblance of normal.

She slid into the back and passed me a coke and a bag of barbeque chips. How did she know? She just smiled in response, opening herself a pack of gummy bears. I think she has a weakness for those.

I watched through the rear view as she rifled through the bag, methodically eating the green ones first, then yellow, orange, clear, and finally red. Her nimble fingers held up one and she bit the head off, then the rest. She never once wavered from her pattern.

"Why do you eat them like that?" I asked, not caring that it would give away that I'd been watching. Thankfully she didn't notice.

"I eat them so that the best flavor is last, and I bite the heads off because I don't want them to suffer," she said seriously. I chuckled, but her face remained serious.

"You know they can't feel…right?" I asked as if I was talking to a child.

"Yea…but when I was little, I could never be sure." She shrugged as if that explained it. I noticed though, that she only talked about her life from when she met Dad forward, or her very early life. It was like from ages five to sixteen, she didn't exist. I didn't want to ask about it, if only because I was afraid of the answer.

"You are a weird one," I said focusing on the road again. She just shrugged in response and looked out the window. With out looking back at me, or speaking, she handed me a red gummy bear. I took it and glanced at it. I gave a small half smile and bit the head off, then finished the whole thing. Kat hadn't looked back up and I was grateful. I'd be dammed if she saw me do that.


	17. Chapter 17

Kat POV

I looked aimlessly out the window, wishing I could be behind the wheel again, but knowing that Dean needed it. I didn't know why, but I think that was Dean's biggest connection to his father. And I didn't want to disrupt that, no matter how much I wanted that connection too.

I didn't have it though. That kind of father-child connection was something I was never able to achieve, no matter how hard I tried with Bobby or John. I could never be their child. I also couldn't take it away from other people, so I let Dean have that connection.

I reveled in the silence, because when it wasn't quiet I was more likely to say something stupid. I had been saying a lot of stupid things lately. And I didn't know why. That was something about me, I almost always understood the way I worked. They way I did things. But not when I was around the Winchester boys. Or more specifically, when I was around Dean. It's not just how weirdly safe I felt with him, but more of the way I felt he understood. No one else could possibly understand, but he could. Hell did that to you, it made it easier to understand the horrors of the world. And though my hell wasn't literal, it was just as bad.

And that kind of thinking made it easier for me to spill my past. And that was dangerous. I didn't even realize I was saying it anymore, it just kept flowing out, completely unchecked. And it was only with Dean. What made him so god damned special? Blake didn't know half of what I've already spilt about my early childhood. Like it was our hourly sharing-and-caring time, I just kept spilling to Dean. And he spilled right back. I knew he would never say those things about his brother, or his dad, or his life it wasn't for me being there. If it was anybody else, he would have told them to go fuck themselves for even thinking he would open up to _them. _

I shook myself, trying to get the self-eating thoughts out of my brain. Dean looked quizzically at me and I just shrugged in response.

"Are we in Maine yet?" I asked, trying to keep the subject off of myself.

"Just passin' over. We'll be in the right town in about an hour or so."

"Good. We'll go over a plan at the motel," I said, leaning back into the seat.

"Can't go over a plan now?" He asked.

"Sammy's asleep."

"He doesn't like to be called that, y'know," he said glancing over at Sam. "Barely lets me call him that."

"It's an automatic thing. I like nicknames."

"Don't think he'll care. Hey, is Kat a nickname?"

"Yea. Full name is Katherine. But ever since I can remember its been Kat or Kit-Kat or Kitty, even. Never Katherine."

"Last name?" Dean asked with interest on his face.

"Not as far as I know," I answered with a dead-pan face. Dean nodded slowly.

"We'll never really figure you out…will we?" he asked after a good minute.

"Probably not," I answered easily. "Unless there comes a time when you need to know." Why the hell did I say that? I've never given anybody any hint that they might learn something about me. They would never need to know. So why was I even saying it?

"That'll be the day. What would you be like, I wonder, with out the mystery?" he asked, smirking at me through the rear view.

"Oh…the million dollar question," I sighed looking at him and smirking back. Dean chuckled and shook his head.

After that we were silent, but it was a comfortable kind of silence. The kind that made some sort of friendship grow. The kind that had a mutual respect and content there. It was a good silence.

When we finally arrived at the motel, Sam had only been awake a few minutes and was giving the two of us odd looks. Probably from one of the most prolonged silences that Dean had ever been a part of. But Dean didn't look angry or hurt or or anything, and Sam's face wore utter confusion. Because Dean was only ever quiet when he felt one of those feelings. But Dean looks content. And I imagine so did I. That confused Sam, and I could tell. But when he looked back at me, the only thing I could do was shrug and smile just a bit.

That was another thing. I'd been doing a lot of smiling lately, and I wasn't used to it. It was weird, but the unused muscles around my face had finally stopped cramping at the action, so I couldn't complain. Sam was the first out of the car, and I couldn't blame him. This was too weird for him. So both Dean and I chuckled a little bit as he ran towards the check in desk. He came back a moment later.

"There was only one room."

I sighed and breathed deeply through my nose. "I'll sleep on the floor," I said not offering any debate. Dean sighed now.

"No. You can take a bed," he tried to offer. Sam shot him a sharp look.

"I don't sleep much anyway. Batman you need a good nights rest," I softened my voice and looked at him pleadingly. His eyes softened and he looked almost guilty as he nodded. I smiled and put my duffel over my shoulder. We walked together inot the room and I dumped my stuff before running to the front desk for extra pillows and blankets. When I got back in the room, I set up my bed on the carpet floor and hid my assortments of weapons in the folds of the blankets and under the pillow. Sam shot me weird looks as Dean did the same thing. I ignored him until I was finished, then reached into my duffel for my laptop. I set it up at the plastic table and sat down.

The boys walked over a minute later as I opened up a word document and city maps and blue-prints. Sam watched with wide eyes as I pulled up encrypted data and blue-prints of the other warehouse from the other city in southern New York.

"Okay, odds are he'll have taken them to a warehouse. There are around five of them on the outside of town, here, here, here, here, and here." I said pointing out each one. "They're all within a half mile of each other, so that's a plus. And if any of them have a basement…that's an even bigger possibility."

"A basement in a warehouse?" Sam asked, not believing it.

"Some of them were built over old buildings that operated as stops on the underground railroad. The basements were either left alone or used as extra storage for more sensitive transportation." I said, all humor gone.

"We can do one of two things," I started, "we can interrogate the neighbors, if you're still unsure if this is the real deal or not, or we can search all the warehouses."

"All of them?" Dean asked with a devastated face.

"We can cross off two of them, they don't have basements," I said looking over my list.

"Tomorrow's going to be a horrible day," Dean announced as he flopped down onto his bed.

"No…tomorrow will be the best day," I said, knowing that tomorrow would be the day that the ting in the dark would be gone. _My _demon would be dead. I couldn't help but grin just a bit at the thought.

"Why do you people always have to contradict me?" Dean asked no one.

"Shut up, Dean," Sam grumbled falling into his own bed. I giggled just a bit and curled up inside my covers on the floor after snapping shut my lap top.

"We'll just do the warehouses, then," Dean said gruffly, rolling over to face the wall. I fell asleep smiling and let darkness take me.

And I was up again four hours later. His many faces were driving me to the point of insanity. The flat black eyes and the sinful mass of darkness underneath. I didn't know if other people could see that, but I could see the forms they wore in hell. Minor demons were no more than the black smoke that came out of their meat-sacks mouths. But the upper ones…they were twisted masses of red skin, black eyes, horns, teeth. Oh god the teeth. Sharp and unnatural and dripping venom and blood and if other hunters could see it, they would think twice about fucking with them. That made me an idiot.

But there was nothing else I could do, or would do. Even when my demon would be dead, there was still another. There was always other one. Considering the next one was the Devil himself, I wouldn't be retiring anytime soon. I don't think I'll ever retire. I told Dean the truth that night, I would die doing this. And take a lot of evil-sons-of-bitches with me.

I was sweating and breathing heavily and my hands were shaking. I don't even know how I kept in the screams. I hadn't had one as bad as that in years. Maybe it was because the end was coming. Dean's form shifted and his eyes landed on me, the bright green illuminated y the moonlight. He squirmed to the very far edge of the bed and flipped the blankets off the opposite side. The intent was clear. I was being allowed in, and he was going to allow me the space I needed. My eyes were wide with shock and doubt. Instead of wondering what would happen I crawled over to his bed.

"Promise not to hurt me?" I begged, feeling small and helpless and scared.

"Promise," was his sincere reply. I nodded jerkily and got in, snuggling into the covers, but being careful not to touch him. I couldn't handle it, I never could. I closed my eyes and willed myself to at least calm down. It was clear within a few minutes that nothing was going to happen, and my heart beat was still erratic.

Then, Dean did something stupid. He shifted and brushed his long fingers down my spine. I knew he could feel the uneven canvas that was my skin even through my shirt, but he didn't say anything. My back was shot with extreme pain, like it did when I was in the front seat of the impala, but I dint cry out. I stiffened slightly and breathed deeply to try and eradicate the pain. I focused instead on the path his finger-tips made as they brushed from my shoulders to my lower back. The pain began to recede after almost twenty minutes and I allowed myself to roll my shoulders and relax my muscles. I noticed offhandedly that my breathing had slowed and so had my heartbeat. I could almost feel sleep.

So with my last coherent and daring thought, I moved backwards, towards Dean. His hand now rested flatly on my back and we both sighed together. And then I was asleep.

And I didn't dream.


	18. Chapter 18

The next morning, I woke early, and got out of bed quietly. I took a shower quickly and by the time I was out, the boys were awake. Dean smiled and said good morning, but didn't say anything else, just brushed passed me on his way to the shower. I was grateful he didn't try to say anything. I was already ashamed enough by my own weakness. I never needed anybody before now, why did I suddenly revel in the comfort?

It was ridiculous.

"Sleep okay on the floor?" Sam asked as I plopped down and grabbed a doughnut.

"As good as I've ever slept," I responded. Ain't that the truth? The second half of the night was one of the best night's sleep I'd had in a very long time.

"We're going to skip the interviews. We trust you when you say its legit," he said not looking up from his laptop.

"Great. How do you want to go in?"

"We would usually stay together…"he started.

""Do you want the three of us together or split up?"

"Together would be safest," he said smiling. I nodded and sipped at my coffee. I would play this by there rules…until we found him. I'd do anything to face him alone.

I got up and went over to my second duffel. I unzipped it and started unloading my weapons. I checked the iron and salt rounds and strapped on a pistol to a thigh holder.

"Pistol?" Sam asked, thinking it wouldn't work.

"I found a way to mix salt into the bullets," I said, slipped extras ammo into the large pockets of my leather jacket. I lifted my shirt to strap the atheme to my stomach. Sam's eyes widened at the sight of the scars on my stomach. I didn't say anything though, just buckled the straps and lowered my shirt again. I rolled my shoulders and doused my wrists and neck with holy water.

"What's that, perfume?"

"Holy water, I plan on fighting, and I'm gonna make sure it hurts him."

"That's a good idea, pass me some?" Sam asked. I tossed it to him and he patted his neck with it.

"Dude, why are you using perfume?" Dean asked, emerging from the steaming bathroom in only a towel. My jaw was on the floor. Was it humanly possible for one man to look that good? Why did I even care? I scanned his body quickly, and my eyes almost dropped out of socket at the sight of the handprint.

"W-What's that?" I asked, cutting off Sam's rushed defense of his masculinity. Dean blinked at me and looked at his shoulder.

"A scar." He said bluntly.

"In the shape of a hand?" I asked skeptically, my right hand wrapped around my left wrist. It was always covered with a black bandana bracelet, but you could still feel the coolness radiating from it.

"Yes. I got it when I came out of Hell," he said ending the conversation. He grabbed his clothes and went back to the bathroom. "And dude, stop wearing chick's perfume."

I was still looking transfixed at my wrist. There was no way…how did that even happen? Did he know him? Or it?

"Not perfume," Sam grumbled from beside me. I giggled and flicked him with some. "Hey!" he flicked me back.

By the time Dean came back out of the bathroom we were giggling like maniacs and half covered in holy water. Dean took one look at us and sighed.

"Idiots."

I smiled at him and shook out my hair. He grinned and jumped back. He was too late, the entire front of his shirt was drenched. I walked over to him slowly. I smiled softly, rubbing some water from my hands onto his neck. I kept my touch feather light, but he still closed his eyes and sighed. My fingers explored his neck gently, and his skin sent tingles through me. "There. You're safe now."

"Why did you just put perfume on me?" He asked huskily.

"It's holy water," I said. He nodded and went to his guns.

"That's good, cause if it was perfume I would have killed you."

"Sure." I tossed him a round of ammo and we waited for Sam to freshen up. When he was done, we left the motel room. I was quiet and antsy on the ride to the first warehouse. Dean kept shooting me worried glances but I just ignored him, to intent on my own thoughts. This was it. No going back. I was going to end my six year hunt today, at age twenty-two.

Maybe after this I could go to college. That would be interesting. I doubt I'd have the patience for it though.

"Do you think I'd do well in college?" I asked aloud.

"You'd get stir-crazy," Dean said at the same time that Sam answered.

"You'd really like it!"

I smiled at the two and fidgeted in my seat.

"Why?" Dean asked.

"Just thinking about what I might do after this," I shrugged. "Not that I'd give up hunting…it was just a thought."

"You should try it," Sam started.

"You do what you think is right," Dean cut him off looking like a wounded puppy.

"Where will you go?" I wondered.

"We still have to find a way to stop the Apocalypse," Dean said bitterly.

"Right. Do you know how you're going to do that?"

"No."

"Will you want help?" I asked quietly, scared of the answer. If they said no, then I would just keep hunting. Keep driving with no destination. Keep hunting with no one else. Stay alone.

"Are you offering?" Sam was still silent. Staring at his brother, and trying to convey something with his eyes.

"Depends on the answer." It was quiet for a long time then and I could see the warehouses coming up quickly. He pulled the impala over and sat there, his eyes in front of him.

"We wouldn't reject help," He said in that way that let you know he wanted to say more, but was to proud to ask for help. I smiled, a real true smile. The kind I hadn't graced the world with since I was five years old. I locked eyes with Dean in the rear view and kept smiling. He smiled back and Sam just sat there, utter shock on his face.


	19. Chapter 19

Dean nodded and got out of the car, not allowing anyone to say anything else. He opened the trunk and started unloading their weapons. Sam and I got out and I watched closely as they suited up. Sam grabbed a Latin book for extra insurance and I stood there, taking in the early morning light. The sun was just rising over the city and the golden light was over everything, making everything glow. It was a good day for demon killing.

I looked over the expanse of concrete and took my pick. There was a warehouse on the far right that was more decrepit than the rest. It was clear no shipments went there anymore. It was just vacant. I looked at the two of them and pointed.

Dean understood immediately and nodded his confirmation while Sam glanced at me worriedly.

"Are you sure you want to come with?" he asked, gazing at me as if I was a small child. My spine stiffened and I locked eyes with him.

"I have to do this." He nodded, not wanting me to go but knowing he couldn't stop me. Dean had given up that thought that day on Bobby's swing.

I tightened my grip on my sawed-off and started walking the cracked pavement. I sidestepped broken glass and empty beer bottles as I walked and tied my hair into a messy bun as I walked. Dean stayed level with me, opting to look to the right for signs that we were being watched. Sam stayed a bit behind, always shooting glances over his shoulder. When we made it to the entrance of the abandoned warehouse, I stopped.

"We need to scope out the ground floor and you're looking for a metal cage type thing. There'll be other kids and they'll need to be taken care of. Don't yell for them, I don't want to alert anyone that we're here," I instructed, thinking of ways to get rid of them so I could face Alistar alone.

Dean nodded, and Sam gave me a long stare. He knew what I was going to try and do. I went in first, gun raised and safety off. The inside was a maze of giant cardboard boxes and lumber, though for the life of me I couldn't understand why they just left everything here. I pointed Sam down the left and Dean the right, I took the center. We moved soundlessly through our respective mazes until they met up in the center. I took a left and almost dropped my gun with the force of the memory. Deep within the maze, were two wrought iron cells. They kind you see at police stations while they hold prisoners. All sides were vertical bars; the concrete floor was splattered with russet stains on the side of the empty cell. And only the empty cell.

The other one was clean and free of blood. Instead it was inhabited by three children. Two girls, ages roughly ten and five respectively and a boy of maybe two. He was staring at me with wide bright eyes. The girls were asleep. I couldn't help but feel the sick jealousy that they were completely unharmed and clean clothed. By the soft glow in their faces, they'd been fed recently too.

"Sam. You has to save her, pwease!" I didn't know a two year old could be that coherent. Dean leaned down to pick the lock, and the girls woke up, shouting at us to save them. But the boy was looking at me. "We's fine! Sammy's hurted, real real bad! And the man with bwack eyes is down there! Save her!"

Dean popped the lock and the girls ran to Sam and him. The boy came out last and stood in front of me, his wide brown eyes bursting with pleading. I nodded seriously at him. "Pwomise?" he whimpered, voice small and fragile.

"I Promise," I vowed, taking his small hand in mine. He smiled at me and then looked back at his crying sisters.

"You have to be strong for them," I told him, "You're the man of the group here." Sam and Dean shot me hard looks, but I was focused on the boy. "What's you're name?"

"John," he answered.

"I knew a John, he was a very brave man," I said looking at him carefully. "And you're braver than him. Now I need you to go out with the tall man and stay with you're sisters. He's going to take you away from here and before you know it, you'll be with your sister again."

"Okay," he sniffed and went for his sisters hands. Sam straightened and lead them carefully back through the maze.

DEAN POV

I'd never seen a hunter so good with kids. It almost wasn't natural how easily she communicated with them and was able to assure them that everything was alright. How easily she gained their trust.

I was more than surprised to find them perfectly fine. In my experience, they were never perfectly fine. Of course, I didn't miss the blood stains on the floor of the empty cell. But why only torture one? When the four of them disappeared from view, I turned to Kat. Her eyes were vacant of the compassion they held when she spoke to John, they only held determination now. And anger. I couldn't blame her. I could feel it too. There were only two things I hated with all my absolute heart more than a demon. A wife beater and a kid killer.

She cracked her neck, then set off down another row of boxes and lumber. When we reached the far right corner, she smiled a haunting viscous smile. I wanted back the one she gave me in the car. It was the signally most beautiful thing I've ever seen. This one scared me, and I do not scare easily. She moved quickly to the trap door, type thing, and opened it slowly. She didn't even pause before descending the stairs. She looked at me when she was halfway down.

"Stay here."

"No."

She sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of her nose with her free hand. Her shoulders slumped in defeat and I almost reconsidered my answer. "Fine, but stay out of my way." I nodded and followed her down the stairs. They were wood, but still slick with blood. I kept my gun ready, and when my boots once again found concrete, I looked to Kat. Normally I would take the lead, but she made it clear she had to do this, and she was going to do it her way. She closed her eyes and the blue disappeared behind her lids. She was still a moment, then her eyes shot open and her whole body had tensed.

"What?" I whispered. She indicated for me to be quiet and I reached out with my senses. And then I heard the faint screams.


	20. Chapter 20

Kat gripped her gun tighter and raced down the cement lined hallway, not pausing to see if I was behind her. I watched her carefully and saw her body shake, with anticipation or fear I couldn't be sure. She practically ran, but was still silent, down the hall. When we came to the end, which was blocked by a large metal door, I could hear the screaming perfectly. It was the high single chord of a young girl on the brink of death. I knew that type of screams. They were the kind filled with pain, and pain alone. The kind of suffocating screams that you yourself are not even aware you are making.

By the look on Kat's face, she knew what they were like too. Knew what it felt like when you were making them. Her eyes ran up and down the stainless steel door and finally stepped back. I was going to ask what she was doing, but before I could speak she shot forward and kicked the door in. I didn't know where that power came from, but she did it. The doors banged against the wall and the sound reverberated through the small concrete room.

The walls were moldy, and covered with years of age. The floors were both concrete and stained a gruesome bloody red, and there were several drains in the floor. In the center of the room was an elevated metal table, next to that was a long row of tools. They varied from knives to bone-saws and were all bloodstained. Kat wasn't looking at the tools, transfixed, like I was. She was looking at what was on the table.

Chained to it on every limb, was a small girl with red hair. She was bleeding. A lot. And there were several layers of gauze covering her upper arms and legs. She was dressed in shorts and a tank top and couldn't be older than about seven. Too small to ever have to go through something like this. I took a step forward, needing to get her away.

"Ah ah ah," A nasally voice chimed in. I stopped, leather boot still an inch from the ground. "Hold your horses there, Dean-O."

"Alistar," I sneered, watching him emerge from the back corner. His new meat-suit was a lawyer type, brown hair and eyes and clean shaven. His voice should have been deep and commanding, but it wasn't. He smiled at the pair of us.

"How ya been Dean-O? You want a turn with her?" My eyes widened and I felt the sickness rising in my throat.

"Shut up you son of a bitch!" I shouted.

"Now, Dean, there's no reason for coarse language," he said, waving his finger as if to a bad child. I flinched away from him, hating myself for the fear I felt. Kat was stiff and her eyes never wavered from Alistar's.

"Oh! And here's our favorite friend! How you been all theses years Angel? I haven't seen you in so long, I almost didn't recognize you. You've gotten so beautiful," he said eyeing her carefully. She shivered and her eyes rolled back in her head for a moment. "My, my, my, you have improved! Seems as though you finally found your trigger!"

"Shut up!" she finally screamed, her eyes a deep blue now. Almost the color of midnight.

"What? You didn't miss me?" He said, sounding genially hurt. "I missed my time with you. How could I not? You were my favorite little…subject."

I sucked in a breath, hoping, praying, that it wasn't what I thought it was. But by the way she had stiffened and her hands gripped the gun tighter, I knew it was true. I felt myself slipping back into my time in hell, and knowing that she had been through the same. She was too sweet and beautiful and good to have to see what I had seen. To have to feel what I had felt.

"Don't you remember our playtime? I replicated it all, just for you," he taunted, and I felt bile rising in my throat.

"Why?" she spat out.

"To see you again! It's been almost six years! After those damn hunters stole you from me, Boss put me back in the pit. It was horrible, being apart from you for all those years. But then Dean-O came along…my win with him put me back top-side."

"Didn't Sam smoke your nasally ass?" I asked, remembering why I was so shocked that we were after him.

"Tried," he said bitterly, "but he was just so worry about you, Dean, that he didn't quiet finish the job." I cringed, knowing it was my fault.

"But why the girl? The kids?" Kat cut in.

"Patterns. Knew you'd see them and that you'd be here just as fast as your cute ass could take you," he smirked at her and she flinched. "Didn't expect him to be with you. Thought I'd worked you over enough to keep you away from trusting."

"Oh…you did. Trust me," she whispered. Alistar tilted his head and moved gently towards us. He took one more step, taking him away from the girl. Then Kat acted.

**Xx Dean:**

** Dude, rate and review and favorite! Do it man!**

**Xx Sam:**

** Dean, You cant just force people to do what you want! You have to say please, rate or reiew if you have time!**

**Xx Dean:**

** Dude, that's stupid. I'm not asking.**

**Xx Sam:**

** Be nice Dean! Stop being so pushy!**

**Xx Dean:**

** Bite me Sammy!**

**Xx Sam:**

**It's SAM!**

**~cocks shotgun~**

**Xx Kat:**

** Will both of you just shut up? And You! Yea you, the one reading this! **

**~Points shotgun at screen~**

** Rate and Review and nobody gets hurt!**

**Xx Sam: **

** I don't think you can hurt them…they're virtual.**

**Xx Kat:**

** Fine…**

**~points shotgun at Dean~**

**Xx Dean:**

** Hey hey hey! Watch where you're pointing that damned thing!**

**Xx Kat:**

** Review and Batman here lives.**

**~Ominous music…fade to black~**


	21. Chapter 21

She flew at him, all power and speed and elegance. She landed a square punch to jaw and he screamed at the contact of semi-dry holy water. Before he could recuperate, she reached easily under her shirt. When her hand reappeared, it held the jagged silver atheme. The blade gleamed in the low lights and the intricate carvings were etched wickedly into the metal. Aistar gaped at it, but only for a moment. He sent his own blow, landing on her shoulder. Her only response was a quick kick upward, shoving him in the chest, making him stumble backwards.

"Get her, Dean!" she screamed at me, not even looking at me. I stopped watching her and ran to the girl. Her eyes found mine and she smiled brightly.

"Is John okay?"

I smiled and started picking the locks on the manacles. I heard the table behind me rustle with the clink of metal and I turned long enough to see Alistar lunge at Kat with a long wicked looking blade. I cringed at I heard it tear through her skin and stood to help her.

"No! The girl!" She said, moving in a circle around Alistar, not even noticing the deep gash on her stomach. I did as she said and finished picking the locks.

"Gonna get you outta here, hun," I told the girl. "You're brother's just fine. Was real worried for you though. We gotta get you up there so he can stop his worrying." She nodded seriously and sat up carefully as I undid both chains on her arms. "Where are you hurt?"

"Everywhere," she said, wincing and crying a little as she moved. I moved to pick her up and looked behind me.

"You took everything from me!" She screamed at him, her eyes wild. She lashed at him with the knife and he dodged. He went for her, pushing her against the wall, his hand a her throat. He screamed at the contact with holy water but kept his hold. He brought his other hand up and ran the knife along the neckline of her shirt. She twisted away from it and then smiled viciously.

An unearthly scream filled the small room as Alistar stumbled backwards. His face was filling with shock and despair and something like fear. The hilt of her knife was sticking out of his chest. A deep red was seeping through his white shirt and that searing yellow light was crackling from the wound. His head tilted back with his scream and for an instant. Just an instant, I saw the twisting mass of teeth and fire that was Alistar as I remembered him Hell. Then it was gone. Really gone. Kat seemed to deflate for a moment, but then stood and looked at the girl.

"Everything's going to be okay. We're going to get you an ambulance and get you all fixed up. Do you have any grandparents?"

"Yea, they live down the street from us," she said in a strained voice. Kat nodded and started walking back. I hurried to catch up to her, cradling the girl to my chest.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" I asked, giving her one of my famous smirks. I was scared. She was losing a lot of blood.

"Samantha," she whispered, her voice barely there.

"Pretty name," I responded. We made it outside and I was more than relieved to see that Sam called an ambulance. I laid Samantha onto the stretcher as the EMT fretted about her. Kat looked carefully at Samantha and then back at me. I nodded, understanding that she was going with her. She walked carefully over to the other kids and picked up John. He buried his face into her shoulder and together, they loaded into the ambulance. When they drove away, we put the other girls in the back of the impala and got in.

"Is he..?"

"Yes," I answered Sam's unanswered question.

"And?" He asked at my most likely depressed face.

"She finished him. And she knew him. Same way I did, and Sammy, she's been through so much," I hung my head, hands still firm on the wheel.

"You mean she was…?"

"Yea," I said, pulling up in to the hospital parking lot. The girls went in with us and we were sentenced to the waiting room of doom to wait while she went into surgery. Kat was in another chair, holding John close to her as he cried for his sister. The other girls went to him and cried too and Kat spoke to them in a quiet voice for a while. John nodded against her and she closed her eyes.

"When I find myself in times of trouble, mother Mary comes to me, speaking words of wisdom, let it be," she sang quietly her voice filling the dim waiting room and capturing every person's attention. A small family in the far corner, waiting for a car crash victim to come out of ICU stared openly at her, and a young couple next to Sam and I started singing along. Then the family joined, then an old man waiting for his wife to have a hip replacement, then the receptionist, then a mother and a child with a broken arm, and then Sam, and then me. The next time a doctor came in, he was quiet and just listened to us all grow in volume, until we were a chorus and I knew every person in this room would always remember this. As the last line blurred into the air as a mixture of our voices, i saw the tears in almost everyone's eyes. Sam was close to letting them fall and I even felt them behind my eyes. Kat had just gripped a singing and sobbing John tightly and let her voice rise above the rest of ours. "Speaking words of wisdom, let it _be_."


	22. Chapter 22

"Winchester?" The doctor asked, after we were quiet. Sam and I looked up in confusion, but Kat stood, carrying John on her hip.

"How is she?" she asked, skipping all formalities.

"She'll be fine, there was only minor damage and some stitches. A lot of it was fake blood actually….but we're going to keep her for observation for a few days," he said and Sam and I let out a breath. Kat hadn't moved though.

"And…was she…was she….is she still?" she couldn't find the words but the doctor understood.

"We found no evidence of rape," he said smiling at her. Now she exhaled, allowing relief to etch onto her face. "You can see her now, but only two at a time."

Kat and John went down the hall with out even asking the rest of us. I looked over at the other girls.

"What are your names?" I asked, sitting back into my hard plastic chair.

"Julie and Sarah," Julie, the ten year old said. I nodded and smiled.

"What's your last name?"

"Hendrickson," she answered.

I got up slowly and walked over to a corner, pulling out my phone and calling the cops.

"Good morning, this is agent Lynch with the FBI, reporting the safe retrieval of four children in this area. Julie, Sarah, Samantha, and John Hendrickson are all accounted for," I said.

"Oh Thank God! We've been looking for almost a week! Their grandparents are worried sick! Where are they?"

"The hospital, Samantha received stitches, but it's minimal damage and she was the only one hurt."

"We'll notify their grandparents and meet you there twenty minutes." I hung up and went out to the car to get our FBI badges. By the time i got back, Kat and John were back. She looked up when she saw me and nudged John.

"This is Dean, he's the one who got your sister out," she said. John looked up at me and smiled.

"Thank you!" He said.

"Hey. buddy! Your grandparents are going to be here real soon, then you can go home," i said kneeling down to be closer to him. He nodded and twisted in Kat's lap to throw his arms around me.

"Thank you for getting' my sissy out," he said in his small voice.

"It's my job," I said, ruffling his hair.

"Is the bad guy gone?"

"Yes, he's really gone," i said, meeting his eyes to convey my truth. He nodded and curled back into Kat and i was left wondering how the hell a two year old is that intelligent.

"How was she?" i asked Kat.

"Awake and kicking. She's a strong girl, she'll be just fine," she said, something close to pride in her voice. She shifted in her seat and reached into her pocket. "What are you going with, FBI or Homeland Security?"

"FBI," I answered, passing Sam his badge. He was looking at her oddly, probably trying to figure out how she had been hurt and why. She nodded and pulled out a badge. John gazed at her curiously, but didn't say anything.

We only had to wait a few more minutes before an old couple rushed into the waiting room. They found John immediately and relief flooded their faces. They ran to him, but stopped short as they saw the protective way Kat held him.

"Who are you?" The old man asked.

"Agent Patricia Benetar, with the FBI," she said showing her badge. "And you are?"

"Amelia and Bill Hendrickson," The old woman said smiling gently. Kat nodded and handed John over. He sniffled at the loss of contact with her and whimpered for her. She ruffled his hair much like I had.

"Go on, big man, go home," she said as they started walking back towards Samantha's room. We waited patiently for the local cops. When they finally showed up, we gave our statements and left the hospital.

In the parking lot, just before we left, John came running at us with Bill behind him. The young boy continued running and threw himself at Sam with out hesitation. he gave a muffled thank you and then jumped up to Kat. She cradled him to her chest and kissed the top of his head.

"You be good, okay? I'll come back to check on you one day and you better be being the best brother you can," she said looking at his seriously. He nodded happily and she let him down. He came to me then, and i scooped him up. His eyes were level with mine and i felt as if he could see through me.

"I'll take care of my giwls, if you take cawe of youw's," he said, looking back at Kat.

"You got that right, buddy, deal?" He shook my hand.

"I wanna be a person liwke you. I wanna hewp people," he said hugging my tightly.

"The world needs kids like you," i said, knowing with all of me that one day that kid would be a cop or an agent or a something as long as he could help people. He smiled and i set him down. He ran back to his granddad and they waved us off as we drove away, back to our motel and our problems.


	23. Chapter 23

**I'm taking a vacation break, but I should be back in a week, please please please review because it gives me incentive to upload. Okay, so here's a teaser of the next chapter where SOME, not all is revealed.**

**I love my few and faithful readers, and anyone else who takes the time to read this.**

KAT POV:

I knew they would ask. Ever since that piece of slime let it slip, i knew it would only be a matter of time until they asked. Sam had been quiet and Dean was obnoxiously singing along to 'Fortunate Son'. When we pulled back into the motel lot, the spell was broken. We were back in our real world. Back in the hell we would always know. But it was my life and i loved it.

I made it in the door first and crawled onto the nearest bed, slipping my hand into my duffel and pulling out my med-kit. I'd refused to be treated at the hospital and i had wounds to attend to. They knew I'd been tortured now, ad I no longer gave a damn if they saw my scars, so with hesitation, I striped off my shirt. I left my bra on, and pulled out antiseptic. I heard their collective gasps as they saw my back, which was facing them. I blatantly ignored them and began stitching up the deep wound on my stomach. Dean moved to sit in front of me.

"You said it was a tattoo." That was all he needed to say. I smiled sadly and remembered the searing white-hot pain and the way he smiled.

"I wish it was," I responded.

The wings took up the whole of my back, and were intricately detailed, showing off every line of every feather. They were also a brand. The slightly raised skin was marred and ugly and beautiful at the same time. I'd always felt a connection to my wings, and as much as they hurt, I could never hate them.

"He fucking branded you!" he shouted back, but I didn't falter in my stitches.

"Did a lot more than that, honey," I said sarcastically. Sam sucked in a breath and moved toward me.

"Your shoulder," he said in a strained voice. "how have you been able to use it?" he indicated my left shoulder. It was dislocated. I shrugged, ignoring the sharp pain coming from it and stopped stitching. I put a rag in my mouth and looked at Sam expectantly. He nodded and took my nearly limp arm. "You're lucky you haven't damaged it more by using it." I was grateful that he wasn't still gaping at my wings like Dean was, and he was pretending like this was normal. I let him pull it back into place and let the rag muffle my scream. I let my eyes roll back when he was done and gratefully took the whiskey that Dean offered.

I threw back half the bottle and resumed stitching. When I threaded the last stitch and wrapped it, I handed the needle to Sam.

"He got my collar bone, I can't see it," I said to his confused look. The tall man crouched to my level and inspected it carefully.

"I don't think it needs stitches, but I'll clean it for you," he said, taking the antiseptic and gauze. I cringed from the pain and offered a small whimper. He glanced at me apologetically and Dean was still silent. When he was done, I put my shirt on carefully and curled up in the bed.

"What?" I asked at Dean's hard gaze.

"You aren't going to say anything?"

"What do you want me to say?" I wondered.

"That it wasn't true. That none of it was true!"

"But it is, Dean!" I shouted back, sitting up in bed to glare at him. "It's all true! I was on that table! From five to sixteen!"


	24. Chapter 24

**Here it is! Please review and everything and yea, if you read this, I love you! Even if you hate the story. But please…like the story. **

It as quiet and Sam looked at me carefully.

"What happened to you?" He asked, giving me his puppy dog eyes. I caved. I didn't want to, and I hated feeling as though I owed them an explanation.

"Alistar came to us when I was five. He took my two sisters and Jaime outside, but kept me in. He…he killed my parents in front of me. Slowly. I remember, the last thing she said to me was, 'You have my dreams and your fathers eyes,' and I asked her what she meant, because my dad had brown eyes. But she just said 'Pray to Castiel, he protects you'. Then she was dead. He took me outside and put me in the trunk of his car, while my siblings got to sit in the front. We drove for a long time, and then we were at a warehouse. He put them in a cell and me in another."

"You said your parents died in a car crash!" Sam interrupted, giving me a hard stare.

"I didn't want to have to explain," I said shortly. "That isn't exactly how I start conversations with people I barely know: 'hi, how are you? My parent's were skinned alive in front of me," I snapped sarcastically. Sam flinched away from me and Dean fixed me with a sharp look. The kind that was somewhere in-between understanding and a warning not to hurt his brother. I gave him the barest of nods and sighed deeply.

"Anyway, you know that movie 'Princess Bride'?" I asked and they just stared at me like I was nuts. "Well, Wesley talks about how the Dread Pirate Roberts would send him to bed every night, 'goodnight Wesley, sleep well, I'll most likely kill you in the morning'... that was basically my life for eleven years. He would…torture me…for hours on end, and then dump me in my cell to stitch myself up. And he'd say 'Good work, Angel, sleep well. I'll probably kill you in the morning," I looked down and breathed deeply. "He was supposed to kill me on site, but he said he…liked me and that he wanted me to stay with him. He hid me away from other demons and hunters, so that he could keep me for himself." I looked into Dean's eyes and saw the question. "All of me," I answered it brokenly.

"He…?" Dean couldn't seem to find the words to finish his question. I just nodded mutely. His face contorted into pure rage, his beautiful features hardening into a mask of hate. For a moment I was afraid. Afraid of this being that Dean could become, because the look in his eyes made me want to run. But then I saw deeper. There was a fierce protectiveness in his eyes. The same kind that John would wear when he knew his boys were in trouble. Dean looked ready to hit something. And it was on my behalf.

"Every night after the torture, I would pray to Castiel…just like my mom said. I'd ask him to save me, to save my family, and to let my parents be happy in heaven. And every morning, everything was still the same." I paused to sniff back my tears.

"He would be gone for months at a time though, and get lower level demons to feed us and torture me. That was when my sister, Andrea, would teach me things. How to do math, and read, and write, with little pieces of flint she would find on her cell floor. She was only ten when we went in, but she taught me and my other siblings everything she knew. I kept practicing and by the time I was ten and she was fifteen, I could stitch myself up easily and I could do basic fourth grade math," I explained. "Andrea would always be thinking of escape plans, because she wanted all of us out. I remember when we first got there, how she had screamed to let us be in the same cell. Susie was only two and had cried and screamed along with her, until Alistar had them injected with some-kind of drug that knocked them out."

"What about Jamie?" Dean asked slowly.

"He went quietly in to his cell and did everything Alistar asked him to do. He rarely spoke to me and when he did it was small things that didn't mean anything. Andrea hated him for it, and Susie was too young to understand."

"And you?"

"It was what I wanted. I wanted him to listen to Alistar and stay out of sight so that he would be okay," I said, smiling sadly. "Andrea tried to escape lots of times. But Alistar would catch them. If I had managed to get out of my cell he would punish me."

"What else could he do to you?" Sam asked fearfully.

"That was what I thought," I said. "But then he brought in Susie. He carved her up in front of me, to get me to be obedient. She was seven." I said quietly. Dean's eyes widened and his hands fisted. "She was only seven!"

I relaxed slightly at the feel of calloused hands on my cheek. I looked up to see that Dean had reached across from his position to brush his fingers across my skin.

"Andrea…couldn't handle Susie's death. One night, when Jamie had been taken to a place he could bathe, and I was stitching a new knife wound in my shoulder; she stuck her arms through the bars. I hugged her as best as I could and she told me she was sorry. I knew what she was going to do, and I cried for hours as she pulled in a loose rope from somewhere in the warehouse and looped it in the tope bars. She hung herself. Right in front of me." I stopped for a moment, unwillingly picturing her limp body hovering in mid-air. "That was the last time I prayed to Castiel for a long time. All I asked for was that she be sent to heaven, where she belonged."

"How did you know he was a demon?" Sam asked, looking slightly sick at the whole conversation. I stayed quiet for a long time.

"I could see what he was, underneath the skin," I said barely above a whisper. "I can with all demons."

"T-That's not possible," Sam tried to say but Dean cut him off.

"Keep going," he said to me, as if knowing that as soon as I stopped, I would not start up again. He was right. I was only going to do this once.

"Alistar came back while I was still praying and took me to the basement. He told me that his angel needed wings." I swallowed. "I've never felt pain like that before."

"And when Jaime came back?" Dean pushed gently.

"Things went back to normal. Jaime still rarely spoke and I was still regularly tortured. Until we were both fifteen. That was when Alistar offered Jaime freedom, but only if he tortured me for a year."

"He took it." It wasn't a question but I nodded anyway.

"It made him sick and cry and that was the only time he spoke to me, and all he would say was 'I'm sorry'. Then, when his year was up, Alistar wasn't there. It was clear to both of us that he'd been cheated. He wasn't going to be let go. So I decided to try and escape like Andrea tried. I found an air duct, it went came up form the basement and emptied outside about three feet from the ground level. We waited until security was light, and I picked the locks with a needle they gave my to stitch a gash on my hip."

"By the time we were in the vent, the guards were coming for us. It was only three feet up," I said in a whisper. "Jaime climbed up, and I could see the light from outside. I could see the sky. I put my hands on the edge and tried to lift myself. But I was too weak. I was too weak to get up three feet to my freedom, and I could hear the demons coming. They were shouting something about hunters and devil's traps." I stopped and collected myself. "Jaime ran, and didn't look back."

"That sonofabitch!" Dean shouted. I locked my watery eyes with his and he stared back. He hated Jaime, and there was nothing in his mind I could say to defend him.

"I was about to pass out, I was loosing too much blood. And I prayed for the last time, saying that if he was supposed to protect me, now would be the time to prove it. Then a hand came out and grabbed my wrist. It burned white-hot, but he pulled me up. The man smiled at me pretended to tip his hat, and I tried to force my throat to say something, but he cut me off.

'I owed my little brother a favor,' was all he said. He pointed behind me then, but I didn't look until I had memorized everything about his face. He had these amazing hazel eyes, and I could see this gold light beneath them. And I could see his wings. Huge and white and they emanated this light. He was an angel. I'm positive. And he saved me." I looked at them trying to see if they believed me. Both had serious looks in their eyes and I knew they did.

"What was he pointing at?" Sam asked. I looked at Dean again and smiled.

"The impala. The morning light was glinting off the paint like a halo and the trunk was popped open. I ran to it, thinking it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen." I paused to gauge the look on his face. A deep respect ran through his features. "I was able to put my hand against the door-frame before I passed out." I undid the bandana on my wrist. "I came to in a hospital, with Bobby and John sitting next to me. They looked so worried! I looked down at myself and saw this," I held up the mark of the hand print and received collective gasps. "They took care of me and let me learn what I needed too. Then they trained me. And now I'm a hunter." I finished rather lamely.

Sam's eyes were streaming and he wasn't even trying to hide it, he looked like he wanted to hug me, but understood now, why I hated the touch. Dean was struggling to hold back the tears, his whole body shaking with the force of it. I looked into his bright green eyes and allowed the tears to fall.

His hand once again reached out to brush my tears aside, and I felt the pain again. There was something oddly intimate about the pain though, like there was a part of me that would be born from it. I knew now that this was Alistar meant by a trigger, and it seemed mine was Dean. I didn't allow my discomfort to show though, and slowly lent into his hand until the waves of agony subsided.


	25. Chapter 25

**Okay, because I got reviews in like three hours last time, I'm uploading another chapter. Please review and I'd love to hear where YOU think the story will be going. I might even build on some of your ideas. I love you guys and thank you so much for reading this.**

THIRD PERSON POV

Dean looked into her somehow familiar blue eyes and wondered how any kind of God could allow this to happen. How she could still find the strength in her to pray or believe in anything other than pain. He watched tears fall from her wide eyes and didn't think as he reached out to wipe them away. He knew the action caused her pain, the same kind he'd witnessed in Bobby's kitchen and the night before. He didn't know why he seemed to cause it, but couldn't stop himself from touching her. It gave him an electric feeling in his core that no one else had ever given him.

He watched her lean into his hand and he allowed one tear to fall for her. He'd never ever cried for a woman, but this one was so special. She made his time in Hell look like a picnic. And she had never broken. He did. He opted out after mere months of what would have been a good day to her. She had lived through much worse than Hell. She had been used in ways it frightened him to think about, and Dean Winchester wasn't afraid of anything.

Sam held his head in his hands, too afraid to do what he wanted, which was to throw his arms around her. He wanted to engulf her small frame with his and tell her it would be okay. He wanted to be the brother she never had, because hers' was spineless and weak. He wanted to kick Jaime's ass and then tell him why and then kick it again. And he could tell Dean wanted all of those things even more than he did. Sam could not understand how his brother had become so attached in less than a week, but knew somewhere inside of himself, that the 'how' didn't matter. He looked steadily between the two and could see the shared pain and suffering and the same love and care. He did not know by what power she had been sent to them, but he wanted…no needed, for her to stay.

He and Dean hadn't fought in days, they were working efficiently, and he even smiled once or twice. And Dean had _laughed_. Sam hadn't seen that happen since he'd first rejoined the hunt with him. And even though Kat seemed cold and unfeeling, she showed him glimpses of a mother he'd always wanted. He wanted to get closer to her. Close enough to make her smile and laugh like she had done to them. Close enough to make her happy and better.

A part of him also knew that Dean would be the one to break down those walls. She may have told them her story, but they had no idea how bad it was or how she felt and they wouldn't. Not until they grew on her.

Kat wiped her eyes and smiled at the two of them, that same genuine one she gave them in the car.

"But thanks to you guys, it's over. He won't come back," she said, her eyes burning with gratitude. The boys smiled back and thanked whatever God that led them to the Roadhouse that night. Dean smiled and watched her blue eyes droop. She was exhausted. He stood and moved gruffly to the edge of the motel room.

"Get some sleep, we'll head out tomorrow." He said, fully intending on making himself piss-drunk to overcome his chick-flick feelings. The ones that were telling him to wrap her in his arms and hold her while she slept. Those were not healthy feelings to have, when in this line of work, there was no guarantee of tomorrow. He left Sam and Kat alone in the dingy motel room, knowing that Sam was disappointed in him and caring a lot more than he usually did.

Outside the motel and in his car, the music was on high as if to drown out his thoughts. He wasn't sure when he realized Castiel was in the car with him. It was sometime in between a Metallica tape and an AC/DC tape, though. It was also around the time he realized he hadn't stopped at a bar and had just continued driving.

"You heard that?" He asked, what he was referring to clear. Cas turned his head to gaze at Dean, in that strange way he gazed at everyone. Like he could see through them.

"Yes," came his gruff reply. Dean sighed and ran a hand over his eyes.

"She was praying to you," he said, his voice a mixture of defeat, confusion, and accusation. If there was one person in this world that Dean knew he could trust, it was Cas. He had given up everything for their cause, and Dean believed in him. But he was pissed and Cas knew it. Castiel had come to him when he had called. Had been there when he needed him. But this was a girl that needed him so much more. That deserved so much more.

"I know."

"And you didn't do anything?" he was shouting now. He hadn't been planning on shouting but he couldn't control it. There was something tearing at him inside. The same protectiveness that possessed him when Sam was in trouble.

"I couldn't, Dean." His tone was infuriatingly calm. Dean almost swerved the car.

"Why the hell not, Cas?" he demanded rather than asked. He glanced to look at the angel beside him and sucked in a breath. His eyes were pained and begged for understanding. Those eyes, the ones that were so blue and bright and_ familiar_.


	26. Chapter 26

**AND another one! Be happy, I love you guys!**

By the time Dean got back to the room, he only wished he was drunk. Sam met his eyes and gave him a confused look. This was usually the part where Dean would stumble into the room and Sam would be hit with the strong scent of Jack Daniels and cheap women's perfume. But this time it was just an incredibly tired looking Dean. The circles around his eyes were pronounced by the haunted look in the green orbs. He had talked to Cas, that much was clear. Whatever it was that he had learned had both made him think and made him afraid. He sent a nod to Sam and cast his gaze to Kat. His eyes held nothing short of awe as they roamed over her sleeping form. She was on the floor again. Dean kicked off his boots and stripped to his boxers. Then, he walked to her and lifted her carefully off the floor, the sheets still draped around her. He laid her gently on his bed and climbed in next to her, providing her plenty of space.

Kat groaned and her face contorted. Both the boys could tell she was having a nightmare. Her back arched off the bed and her forehead crinkled. Sam sat up off of his bed and moved to do something, but Dean beat him to it. His eyes worried and his movements careful, Dean slid his arm across her stomach. He flipped her so that her back was facing him and moved until she was cradled to his chest.

Her breathing slowed and her muscles relaxed, her eyelids fluttered and the ghost of a smile appeared on her sleeping face. Sam smiled brightly at his older brother, more convinced that they were connected. Before returning to his bed, he allowed himself to cup her cheek with his large hand. She snuggled into it unconsciously and Sam smiled to himself. He could put her at ease too. It made him sleep better.

When Kat woke, it was to the pleasant feeling of warmth. The kind you can only achieve from another body. Her eyes opened slowly and were met by a bare tan chest. Her instinct was to shoot first and ask questions later, but she was so warm. It was seeping into her soul and made her smile. So she snuggled deeper, not caring who the person was, only positive that he wouldn't hurt her. She wasn't sure how she knew that, but it was one of those times she just felt safe.

She woke again an hour later to the feeling she was being watched. This time when she pried her eyes open, it was to meet a pair of bright green eyes. They gazed at her carefully, as if the owner of the eyes was unsure of himself. Unsure if he had overstepped his boundaries. So Kat gave him a slow smile and disentangled herself from his arms. He let her move, though seemed as unwilling to let her go as she was to leave. She grabbed clothes from her duffel and went to take a shower, feeling rested.

Dean smiled to himself as heard the water start. What he had learned in his car from Cas was eating at his mind, but at the moment it didn't matter. Because it was time to get to work, and they had a new set of hands to help them. That would hopefully make killing the Devil a bit easier.

Sam came back a moment later with breakfast and flashed his brother a soft smile.

"How should we act around her?" he asked, scared of doing something wrong.

"Like nothing happened," Dean said as though Sam should have known this. It was what they did with everything. It was the only way he kept his family together. To forget and move on. Dean grabbed his coffee and a doughnut and looked toward Sam's laptop.

"Got anything new on Lucifer?"

"Well, now that you're done staring at Kat while she's sleeping…" Sam teased with a smirk.

"Bite me."

"Why don't you ask Kat?"

"Bitch"

"Jerk."

Neither of them would admit how good that felt. To smile and joke around like nothing had changed since Sam first got back in the impala so long ago. They felt like brothers again. Funny how the world ending and a traumatized girl could do that to you.

Sam sighed and pulled himself from memories and back into the soon-to-be-apocalyptic world he lived in. He sat down on one of the flimsy plastic chairs and began scrolling through an article he'd had up before his breakfast run. He kept his eyes on the screen and said one sentence.

"The Horsemen of the Apocalypse," he said, flipping the screen around to show Dean a picture of the Horsemen. Dean stared at him. Intent clear. 'Explain'.

"The rings," Kat said simply from her position at the doorframe. Dean took a moment to examine her. Her hair was wet and tangled around her shoulders in the perfect way, and her porcelain skin was discolored by a dark bruise forming in her neck in the shape of a handprint. She gazed at him steadily, almost challengingly and Dean stared back. He was unwilling to break it first. She inclined her head and looked to Sam.

"We need the rings right? To open a gate to hell," she said, looking apprehensively at the picture.

"Yea, the rings are where they get their power from. Lucifer's gonna get busy raising these guys soon, and when he does-"

"The end begins," she finished for him. Sam nodded and she sighed. "Okay, we need to run some traces. I'll call Ash."

"What for?" Dean asked, hating that he felt stupid and not really caring at the same time.

"Stuff like…towns that aren't dying…unheard-of flu spikes….random war breaking out….people that eat or otherwise consume themselves to death," she said dialing Ash. She put the phone to her hear and relayed all of that to him.

"Hey Darlin'?"

"Yea Ash?"

"Did you get him?" His southern twang gave his voice a child-like quality.

"Yup."

"Darlin'?"

"Yea Ash?"

"Come visit soon, okay?" He missed her, and she could tell. Truthfully, she missed his strange hair and jarring intelligence. She didn't miss the junkyard he called an office, but she could always deal.

"You got it, Bye!"

She rubbed her forehead gently, already feeling a headache coming on. "He's gonna run the searches and call us when he has something."

"So once we get the rings…" Dean trailed off. Sam looked at him and considered telling him to just read the damn article, but kept his mouth shut.

"Together, you can open a hell mouth." Kat said.

"Uhh, How?" Dean asked, thoroughly confused.

"I don't know," she said shrugging. "Anything that I've read says that you have to do something…but never tells you what."

"Same here," Sam offered.

"Okay, so we have a plan…that we don't know how to activate?" Dean summarized. Kat nodded and shrugged again.

"We could ask one of the horsemen," she offered. Sam laughed and Dean looked at her like she was nuts.

"Like they would help us?" He said.

"Think about it. Death, for instance, it's been around for thousands of years, much much older than Lucifer. How would you like to be chained to a toddler having a tantrum?" she questioned, smirking. Sam shut his mouth and thought about it. Dean shrugged.

"We got nothing else," Dean said, plopping back down onto the bed. "So…what now?"

They had time to kill before Ash called. At least a few days.

"Do, do you think we could, umm," Kat started and then stopped. Dean nodded for her to continue. "Maybe visit my parents?"

Dean froze for a minute, then it registered that she was asking to visit their graves and he smiled warmly. "Sure, where are they?"

A look of concentration crossed her face as she tried to recall where she had been born. It was one of the many facts Andrea had drilled into her in the darkness of the warehouse. "Derry, Maine," she said slowly. "But I don't know their names." She looked ashamed of herself and Dean rushed to console her.

"We pose as FBI all the time, it shouldn't be that hard to get the information you need," he said smiling.

"We're not too far from Derry, let's head out," Sam said, calculating the miles in his head.

Hey Dean," Kat started, her eyes full of something that made Dean stop and look at her. He was not sure what he was expecting her to say, but a thousand things ran through his mind. About nine-hundred of which ended with a passionate kiss against the door frame. "Can I drive?"

He deflated, and his mind rushed to her doing eighty on his poor baby. He took in her wide blue eyes and the pleading in them. They were sucking him under to a dark dark world where she drove his car and shot his guns and called the shots. "No." He wasn't ready for that nightmare.


	27. Chapter 27

**Okay Okay, last one for today! PLEASE review! It makes me warm and fuzzy inside! Spread the word too, the more people who read this the more I'll upload. And I'm even thinking about…..A SEQUAL….dumdumdum! If you love me, you'll review!**

She nodded to herself, accepting this as fact and smirking slightly at the look of fear in Dean's eyes. She could tell what he was imagining, and she'd be dammed if she didn't find it amusing. She packed up all of her stuff and bid goodbye to the crap motel room. Sam let her in and plopped himself down in his familiar seat, barely hiding his growing confusion. He'd almost said yes. For the second time. He had never seen Dean that way, and it bothered him. He knew that his relationship with his brother had been wearing thin since he had started the apocalypse, but he thought he knew his brother well enough. And what he knew of his brother told him that he never acted this way. Towards a girl no less. Dean was a beer-drinking, womanizing, dumbass. That couldn't change so quickly could it?

Dean glanced offhandedly at Sam, and noticed his bitch-face. He hated that face because it meant further strain on the already deteriorating bond they had. He didn't want anymore fights. Fights meant having to face the issues that he would rather burry and forget about. So when Sam opened his mouth, Dean reached over and turned up the music. Kat met his eyes in the rear-view and he knew she would talk to him later. Probably to Sam too. Because after all she had told them, and all she had trusted them, she wouldn't allow them to hate each other. Sure one had started the apocalypse and the other was a hard-heated dumbass, but they were family. And she would do anything to have what they had.

They drove for around an hour before the silence started suffocating her. She shook her head with something close to anger and regretted ever saying anything about her past. Instead of voicing that and have everything be even more awkward, she rolled her neck and made eye-contact with Dean again.

"So…what's your most creative kill?" she asked leaning back into her seat. Dean exhaled with relief and started thinking. He smiled suddenly and chuckled to himself a bit. "Well, aside from the Rugaru we nixed with a pipe from an organ, there was that thing we used a taser to kill. I hated that sonofabitch," he replied his eyes distant.

"Nice."

"You?" he glanced back at her.

"Hmm, I'd have to say one of my first hunts…it was a wendigo, but I didn't know that going in. Thought it was a werewolf. So, as you can imagine…no flare gun. I ended up torching it by drenching it in nail polish remover and lighting it up," she smiled at the memory. Sam's eyes widened and his respect for her grew just that much more. But instead what he said was.

"How did you confuse a wendigo and a werewolf?"

"It was smarter than the average. It changed towns every month and had its biggest kills the week of the full moon," she explained, and he nodded his understanding. Dean gave him a hard look anyway, though.

"We've had our fair share of screw ups," Dean said.

"I know, your father had some great stories," she said smiling. Dean was taken aback again by how much she knew about them. As if sensing their discomfort she smiled. "Nothing either of you wouldn't want me to know."

"I hope you're right," Dean mumbled to himself. She giggled lightly, but it was cut off as she watched the sign approaching. They were in Derry. Her home.

Both boys noticed her change in attitude and remained respectfully quiet as she tried to come to grips with coming home. She wiped at her eyes absently, even though no tears had fallen. She looked across to Dean and tried to communicate what she wanted. He nodded his understanding, and they pulled directly into the police station.

"We could go in with you if you-" he started.

"No, it's okay." She hadn't meant to be rude, and Dean knew it. So he just nodded and tried not to look too much like a kicked puppy. Sam let her out and sat back in his seat. He looked to Dean and tried again to say something but he cut him off.

"Look dude, now's not the time."

"Then when will the time be?"

"After we cool off."

"What the hell, man? We need to talk!" Sam was close to shouting now.

"About what? About how you started the Apocalypse? About how you didn't listen to me? About you chose that bitch over your own blood?" Dean spilled out, looking everywhere but at his brother.

"Dean…I screwed up…I know that, but-"

"Dude, you by-passed screwed up around the time you relapsed on the demon blood."

"What do you want me to do?" Sam finally asked in a defeated voice. His eyes were on his long hands, twining and untwining.

"Help me fix it." Dean paused and looked at him steadily. "Help me stop the apocalypse, and stop being such a bitch about it."

"I'm not-"

"Yes you are! Dammit, Sam! " Dean pulled himself back. He glared at his brother in silence.

"I know…and I'm sorry," Sam said, knowing that he needed to take responsibility for what he had done.

"Sorry only goes so far. We gotta get our asses in gear and bust some heads."

Sam allowed himself a small chuckle and nodded, and they waited. Kat walked out soon after. Her black hair was slightly curly in the wind and her blue eyes were tinged red. Her old ripped jeans hung loosely on her slim hips and her scuffed combat boots moved carefully on the uneven concrete. Her leather jacket hugged her body and the Hard-Rock shirt underneath accented her hunters body, and her many protective chains and charms swung around her neck as she walked.. Dean wondered how they had ended up with her. He usually wasn't that lucky.

She climbed into the back with a manila envelope in her hands, her many rings standing out against the yellow paper. At Dean's unasked question she opened the envelope and gave a strangled dry sob at the contents.

"G-go to Live Oak Cemetery, just north of the town," she instructed sifting through contents of the bag.

"What's in there, Kat?" Dean had to stop himself from giving her a nickname.

"T-they set my house on fire, after th-they left. This was all they could…all they could find," she said, wiping her eyes. She pulled out a gold chain, gripping it tightly in her small hands. She looked intently at the charm at the bottom of it and sniffed. It was a pair of wings, with a diamond set in the center. She put it over her head hurriedly and looked at it carefully. Next, she pulled out a small revolver with a name embossed on the side. "Angel," she said gently, her voice childlike and sweet. She tucked into the waistband of her jeans and pulled out the last thing.

It was a small picture. One that had been opened and folded many times. Kat opened it carefully and let her eyes roam over the people smiling softly at the camera inside. Her eyes became confused and she flipped the picture. Her eyes grew wide and her mouth opened and closed several times. Her eyes met Dean's and she gave him a panicked look. She handed him the picture, looking close to fainting.

Dean blinked, not believing it, and reached behind him for the picture. He looked at it and nodded absently to himself.

Smiling at the camera were three people. A young woman with bright green eyes and long auburn hair was cradling a baby girl of about two years. The baby had wide ice-blue eyes and short dark hair. The girl was looking to the man beside her with a look of total fascination. The man was tall, taller than the woman, with dusty dark brown hair that hung loosely around his strong jaw. He looked like a standard cowboy. With luminous blue eyes. He wasn't smiling, but held a look of content.

Flipping the picture over, he read the inscription aloud.

_Kit-Kat and parents on her second birthday._

_ First and last time we were all together._

_ Our Angel loves you, Kat, remember that much._


	28. Chapter 28

**HIIIII! I know! I know! You love me for updating! Oh…the joy of summer vacation and no social life! Many thanks to all my reviewers and any readers! And, this story isn't done yet! And yes, I maybe possibly have an ending ready, for the first one…but that's a good while away. ;)**

**This one's really short, but I'll bring in another one later today.**

"Is that…?" Sam started, looking from the picture to a spaced-out Kat.

"Her father. Her real father," Dean finished for him. He sighed and looked at those familiar blue eyes.

"But her twin…how is that possible?"

"I don't know," Dean said softly. He pulled into the cemetery lot and got out. Leaning into the back he shook Kat to get her attention. Her eyes were red and frightened. "Now's not the time to worry about that, Kit-Kat." He couldn't stop himself from using the nickname. "Now it's time you go and see your parents. The one's that raised you and loved you."

"you're right, Batman," she said softly. She got out and slipped past Dean. "Will you wait here?"

"Sure," Dean said, leaning against his car as she walked rather unsteadily away.

Kat ambled her way through the many headstones until she found the ones she was looking for. Before she could even fully take in the names, she dropped to her knees. Her head in her hands and her hair falling over her. She couldn't hold back the tears.

"I'm so sorry…so so sorry. Momma, it's my fault. I'm so sorry you had to…to die. For me. Daddy, I'm so sorry that you had to raise me…knowing I wasn't yours. I don't know who I am…and I'm just so sorry. Neither of you deserved this. You didn't deserve to have me as a child. When all I gave you was…this." She wiped angrily at her eyes and looked at the headstones. They were nothing special. Side by side the names spoke volumes to Kat. At least now she knew her last name. _Hannah and Marcus DeLaroux. _Did that mean she was French? She didn't feel French. She didn't feel anything really. Just this big ripping inside of herself. Like someone had just taken off a band-aid.

She stood slowly, her eyes still running. She ran her shaky hands over her face and tried to stop crying. Her whole body shook as she began walking away. She could just see the front of the impala. Dean was leaning against it, looking off into the sun. Even from where she was, she could see his bright eyes reflected in the light. His leather jacket must be baking under it, but he showed no signs of discomfort. She walked closer, her movements as unsteady as they were the first time she approached the car.

Sam turned to smile softly at her and she was struck by the sudden urge to have had him as a brother instead of Jaime. Not that she didn't love him. He was the only family she had left. It was just that Sam was the type of man that would give anything for the people he loved. So was Dean, but Sam also emanated that brotherly type of love. Dean on the other hand, emanated alcohol and leather and motor oil.

She went back to the car and tried to smile through her tears, and for some reason just didn't care that she was vulnerable. Usually she was cold and hard and unfeeling. Now she was almost completely broken down and she just didn't care. Which is maybe why, when both boys approached her, she didn't move. It was maybe why, when Dean put his arms around her, she only rested her head on his chest. It was maybe why, when Sam added his arms, she allowed herself to exhale and breathe in deeply. Or maybe she just needed the comfort.

"Okay…what do you say we kill some evil sons-of-bitches and we raise a little hell?" She asked looking up at both men. She wanted to kill something. She didn't really care what it was, as long as it took some effort.

Sam and Dean stared at her oddly for a moment, both remembering when Dean had said those almost exact words not so long ago. Then, Dean grinned hugely. He could get used to this chick.


	29. Chapter 29

**Hello people! Okay so we got another update here, and I'm trying to get the ball rolling on the apocalypse part of it. I did use my artistic license and tweaked a few things I wanted to change. Sue me. Not really. Seriously, don't. Just review and stuff. I love you guys!**

There were very few times in Kat's life that she could ever remember being that hungry for a kill. All her mind would focus on was the thought of decapitating a vampire or performing a salt and burn. All she wanted was to get rid of this sickening scared little girl she was becoming. She blamed Dean. That was probably a bit of a skewed point of view, but it was all she could think of. He was the one who was making her feel all these things. Feel weak and scared and safe and insane and have her thoughts spinning out of control and feel grounded at the same time. It was all that beer-drinking, green-eyed, gun-carrying, impala-driving, demon-killing, bone-salting, leather-wearing, body-building hunter's fault. Damn him.

A part of her wished she hadn't met him. But the rest of her knew it was lying. She had begun to begrudgingly respect Dean for the hard-heated hunter he was. His random bouts of humor kept her from going over the deep end during their long drive to no-where.

"So then we're just sittin' there in McDonalds and of all the restaurants, Ronald has to show up at ours. And then, he picks Sammy…of all the kids to come up and give a hug to. So then…like two minutes later, I'm carting Sammy out of McDonalds and he's freaking sobbing all over himself. I mean, he took on a werewolf the same year and didn't even blink…but a freaking clown? Oh god, the world was ending," Dean was saying as she giggled in the back. His voice was the only thing keeping the bloodlust at bay and he was damn funny.

"Yea, well at least I'm not afraid of flying!" Sam shot back, his face red.

"Planes crash!"

"And clowns kill!"

She started laughing harder, practically shaking in the back. It sounded like they had had this conversation before, but it was still hilarious. She managed to get myself under control long enough to say something.

"Guys! It's okay! I'm afraid of both, actually."

"No way," they said simultaneously.

"Yup. Along with dolls…I hate dolls," She said shivering for effect. They laughed openly at her, as she stewed childishly in the back of the car.

"How can you be afraid of dolls?" Dean asked.

"They're creepy! They stare at you and their eyes follow you and its wrong!"

Dean smiled, relieved. He had managed to get that hard look out of her eyes and even had her laughing. He had been afraid to see that bloodlust in her and knew he had to do something. He knew how she felt. It was much the same as he felt just after his father had died. Where he at least had Sam. He could pretend all he wanted that Kat had them to lean on, but really she had no one.

All he had to do now was make this banter last long enough to get her to the roadhouse and on a simple hunt. She needed to kill something. Preferably not him or Sam…hence the humor. Sam would probably tell her that she didn't need the violence and just need to talk it out and he'd probably start singing 'All you Need is Love' around a campfire. Truth was, because Dean had been there, he knew that the best thing right now was to take down an evil sonofabitch.

Sam tried to enjoy the easy banter between his brother and Kat. He tried to not think about the apocalypse or the fact that Lucifer was waiting to wear him as a meat suit. But the fact of it was, they were loosing time. He hoped that Kat could hold herself together until they found something productive to kill. Something like…Lucifer.

By the time they reached the Roadhouse, Kat had managed to lock away all those bad feelings deep inside herself and pretend like she was fine. It was easier than she thought. All she had to do was focus on the sound of Dean's voice and picture Alistar's face when she killed him. She was the first inside the bar; moving quickly and only stopping to grab a bottle of whiskey from underneath the bar and slap a twenty to the annoyed bartender. She opened the office door and plopped down on the thread-bare couch like she owned the place. Ash appeared a moment later and sat next to her. He took the whiskey from her offered hands and flipped the channels. When he found himself a decent show, he took a long swig of the whiskey and got comfortable in his seat.

Kat counted down form ten in her head.

"HOLY MOTHER OF NASCAR!"

"Hi, Ash."

"Hi"

Dean and Sam came in then, smiling goofily at what they obviously heard from outside. Dean stripped off his jacket and tossed it on a large pile of newspapers and made his way eagerly towards a pizza box.

"I wouldn't eat that if I was you," Ash warned.

"Ah, why not?"

"It's about a week old," he said, shrugging. Dean grimaced and stepped away from the pizza. "You guys know I haven't finished my traces yet, right?"

"We figured as much," Sam said, "We're just trying to find something useful to do."

"I'm gonna go get a drink," Dean informed them casually. He got up and walked out of the small smelly office and sat at the bar heavily. He took a beer from the bartender and walked out to his car. He didn't have to wait long.

"Hey, Cas"

'Hello, Dean," was the gruff reply. Dean had known the angel would come to him. They needed a job and Cas always had one. But he wouldn't appear in front of Kat.

"You got something for us?"

"Yes." Dean nodded for him to continue. "Gabriel is in need of your assistance."

"Okay…why?"

"He is trying to save the demi-gods from Lucifer."

"Okay…where is he?"

"A hotel," Cas explained. "I will take you there."

"Whoa, Whoa, Whoa, no. Sam and Kat are coming too."

"I do not have that power."

"Well then just tell me where it is and I'll drive. It's what I have the damn care for."

"Oh…I'll do that then." Cas gave him coordinates and slid it across to Dean.

"You still avoiding her?"

Cas didn't answer. Just stared at Dean and nodded slowly.

"She'll like you, you know."

"You cannot know that."

"Doesn't matter, neither can you."

Cas sighed and Dean saw how tired he looked. "We'll go to Gabriel."

Dean blinked and heard the flutter of wings and knew that Cas was gone. He walked back into the bar and into Ash's office.

"Saddle up. We got an angel in need!"

"But we just got here!" Kat said, looking up from an intense video game she and Ash were playing. "Did you say angel?" Her whole face changed at the information.

"Yup. Gabriel's lookin' to save the demi-gods he's been chumming with. We got called in."

"I don't like him," Sam said stiffly.

"Yea, me neither. But he's not on a side and his friends want to stop the apocalypse as much as we do."

"Why don't you like him?" Kat asked.

"That. Is a very long story," Dean said.

"Angel thought he could beat his kinda sense into Sam by having Dean die over and over and over again," Ash said without looking up from the game.

"Well, what kind of sense?"

"That they gotta stop sacrificing themselves for each other and that bad dudes would use it against them."

"Oh. Well, he kinda had a point, didn't he?" she said offhandedly.

"You say that now, but wait until he makes you watch your brother die a few hundred times," Sam said bitterly. Kat accepted this and stood carefully.

"Ash! Pull your ass away from that game and hug me!" She demanded like a small child. Ash smiled and wrapped her into an embrace. "We'll be back in a few days for your info."

"Will you bring me more whiskey?"

"You got it," she said smiling.

"Almost forgot!" Ash reached behind to the TV and pulled off a fresh package of gummy bears. Kat grabbed them eagerly and kissed Ash's cheek before running outside after the boys.

"Do you want one?" She asked Dean as she popped a green one into her mouth, after biting the head off. He nodded and she fished for one she thought he deserved. "Orange."

Dean shook his head and accepted the gummy bear. Sam watched the exchange with confused eyes as the both of them bit the heads off and swallowed the rest. He accepted a green one that Kat gave him and swallowed the whole thing. Dean smirked at the look of outrage on Kat's face, but she covered it quickly.

Hours later they arrived at the hotel. Just walking in, Kat could tell something was off. She ran in, not even thinking as she grabbed her weapons duffel and rushing to the elevators. She pushed level nine, and bounced, waiting for Sam and Dean to catch up. They caught the doors just as they were closing.

"What the hell?" Dean asked.

"Something's up," she responded. They waited anxiously in the elevator music until the doors opened and she ran down to a room. She kicked it open with out even thinking and was met by a sight she never expected.

"Holy shit."


	30. Chapter 30

**Bonjour! I am uploading! You better love me! So review! I want to know your favorite lines and where you think the story's going! It means a lot that all you guys are reading, and I'm gonna keep uploading to show you how happy I am. Seriously, the reviews make me warm and fuzzy. **

Dean and Sam arrived at the room in time to see Kat run at a stunned Gabriel. Dean quirked his head to the side and watched as Kat latched her frail arms around the archangels neck and bury her head into his shoulder. The man himself held his hands up over his head and mouthed; 'who is this chick?'.

Dean and Sam offered only a chuckle as Kat pulled back and smiled at the angel.

"You probably don't remember me," she said carefully, "but I'll never forget you."

"Did we have sex?"

Kat shook her head wildly and scrunched her brow, trying to think of a way to explain it.

"You owed a favor to your brother."

Comprehension dawned on his face and his eyes grew large and happy. "Oh…Wow. You sure did blossom! You're quite the looker if I may say."

"And you are quite the charmer," she said smirking. Dean stepped forward into the room with Sam close behind.

"Hate to break this up, but we have a job to do," he said.

"Shut up, Dean." Kat responded easily. "I'm having one hell of a day."

"Meeting the man of your dreams does do that to you," Gabriel replied.

"And getting to say goodbye to my parents."

"Don't you mean one of your parents."

"Ah, so you know. Who is he?" She asked, her eyes fierce.

"You've got his eyes, babydoll." Was all he said. "Okay, so you boys know I don't have a side right?"

"You're in luck, cause neither do we," Sam said.

"We're going with Team Free Will," Dean added.

"That's great and all, but I need a hand. This hotel is full of demi-gods and I want them safe. Especially Kali."

"Got a soft spot?" Sam asked cheekily.

"What you and your brother have is debilitating," Gabriel said harshly. "None of them know who I am. They call me Loki."

"Trickster," Kat said in an awed voice.

"You know of me?"

"I happen to find your work extremely entertaining," she said, smiling.

"I aim to please."

Kat grinned at him and took them by surprise again. She hugged him to her and blinked heavily. This time he hugged her back and she sniffed.

"Thank you. You…have no idea what you gave me."

"Not a problem. I think you'll come in handy later."

Kat wiped at her eyes and sighed deeply. "You're not planning on getting out of this hotel alive…are you?"

"Nah. Living's over-rated."

"You would know…wouldn't you?"

"I've seen all of Earth I care to. I'm tired."

"We'll do you proud…old man."

"You better. Just…make the fighting stop."

"And we'll give them a time-out to-boot."

Kat stepped back, a small plastic CD case in her hands. He inclined his head and made his way through a stunned Sam and Dean.

"I need you two to help me get these guys out of here. Kit-Kat, you're gonna want to get out and watch that," he indicated the CD. "The boys will be there soon." She nodded carefully and approached Gabriel.

"Thank you."

He touched his two fingers to her forehead and she sucked in a breath as the sound of wings surrounded her and she was thrown across the town and into a motel. She shook out her hair and tried to fight off the sick feeling in her stomach. She stood and realized that both of her duffel bags were there.

She took a long awaited shower and collapsed on a motel bed. She decided to sleep now and watch the CD with Sam and Dean later.

In her dreams she saw Gabriel speaking with a man who wore darkness on his sleeve and who's voice poisoned minds with thoughts of hell. She knew it to be Lucifer, and was struck by the beauty he had inside of his vessel. She could see the brightness he carried. The all-consuming light that was deceptive in its brilliance. And then the real Gabriel tried to end it all. The angel sword was plunging towards Lucifer, and then Gabriel was dead. The sword in him and then out of him and then the imprint of his wings spread on the floor around him. And Lucifer standing over his fallen brother with a look of actual remorse.

Kat sat up in her dingy bed with tears in her eyes and visibly shaking. She didn't have to wait long for Sam and Dean to arrive and by then she had managed to stop crying. Dean half-hugged her and collapsed onto the bed next to her. She handed Sam the CD and he pressed play.

Almost immediately the three were consumed by morbid laughter. It was just like the angle to leave instructions to save the world from all-consuming hell, on a Casa Erotica tape.


	31. Chapter 31

**Hiya! Okay so I wanted to give you a little insight into Dean's head and where he's coming from with all of this. He might be a bit out of character, but I like to think I blended it well with my image of him. Let me know what you think and if you want this kind of thing done for the other characters. Like Sam and Kat and maybe even Cas.**

Dean watched Kat sleep soundly next to him, one of his arms casually over her waist. She'd been too tired to even offer to sleep on the floor and Dean would have just moved her anyway. She had been through too much in the last forty-eight hours. He thought she would have completely broken down by now, but maybe that's what she was doing when she let the boys hold her. Sometimes Dean forgot sometimes that she was only twenty-two, and yes he did do that math himself thank-you-very-much. She behaved older than Dean and Sam. Even with those random moments of childlike innocence, she still was the adult.

He'd be lying if he said he didn't look forward to those moments. When she was laughing or sleeping or eating those damn gummy bears. Those were the moments when she looked young and sweet and vulnerable. So unlike the calloused hunter she was.

He felt like a creeper for watching her, but it made him feel content. More content than he could ever possibly be any other time of the day. So when he couldn't sleep, he just watched her.

The moon was bright through the window, making her skin a soft creamy white. Her black hair was splayed out on the pillow and curled over her collar bone. Her fringe of lashes touched her cheeks and her small delicate hands were curled up under her head. He could see the faint calluses on her trigger finger and her knife wielding hand.

Dean sighed hugely and let his eyes flutter closed, he knew tomorrow he would have to get up. He knew he would have to strap on his guns and knives and his give-'em-hell attitude and kills some bad guys. He would have to pretend like the pressure wasn't wearing on him, and that he wasn't afraid. Because he was. The frigging apocalypse was coming and he was supposed to stop it. How could he not be afraid?

Granted, since a certain hunter came into his life, he'd been a lot less afraid and a lot more willing to act. Somehow, her just being there made it easier for him to face tomorrow. Maybe it was because she could see through him. She was able to see the broken mass that was Dean and didn't take his excuses. She offered him sound advice and understanding that no one else could seem to give him.

He looked over to her again and pulled her closer to his body. Her small frame melded to his and he watched in amusement as she cuddled in to his abs and threw a leg over his. He forced his mind off of the thoughts he would usually take and casually ran his fingers through her hair. She murmured something softly and her nose tickled his neck. He knitted his fingers together behind her back and felt the uneven skin.

He had been horrified when he first saw her back. The skin was raised and marred, but on a second glance, he saw the beauty. Every line and every feather was intricately detailed and drawn out and he somehow expected them to lift off of her skin and she would fly.

He rolled slightly, so that he was comfortable, and buried his face into her shoulder. He breathed deeply and thought he smelled midnight. The way cold air smelled in the middle of the night in an open field under the stars. He knew he smelled like gunpowder and leather and motor oil. Nothing like her.

His green eyes closed again and he let himself drift off with the smell of her and the feel of her skin keeping the nightmares at bay.


	32. Chapter 32

**Okay, so I'm gonna do one more upload today and then I most likely won't upload again until maybe…day after tomorrow. I'll work on it, though!**

****Psss…if you review I might upload a bit faster ;)****

The next morning, Sam woke and unsteadily made his way to the crap bathroom. Upon reaching the doorframe, he did a double take. His face quickly morphed to disgust at the two mingled bodies on the far bed. Then he realized that they had fallen asleep last night and that Kat was still fully clothed. He had seen the way that Dean had pulled her to his body last night, at around one. He had seen the automatic response her body had to Dean, and had smiled softly when he saw him snuggle into her hair.

Of course in his drowsy state, his first thought had been that they had actually done it. With him in the room. The thought gave him shivers and made him want to throw up. So he took a shower. He let his muscles unknot and took the time to prepare himself for another day.

A half hour later, Sam exited the steamy shower fully clothed and refreshed. He rolled his broad shoulders and smiled at a sleepy looking Kat. She blinked in response and attempted to sit up. Her hair fell around her shoulder as she struggled against the cradle of Dean's arms. She paused and looked at Dean.

Sam watched her closely as her eyes roamed over his brother's face. There was a look in her eyes and she took in Dean's features that Sam couldn't quite place. Her eyes had darkened to a midnight blue and her pink lips curved into a small smile. Then, she turned over so her back was against him, and pried open his fingers. She rolled out of the small opening and replaced her body with a pillow. Dean immediately cuddled with it and a smile graced his usually crass face.

She giggled gently and stood up, obviously proud of herself. Sam chuckled to himself as he watched to child-like woman grin to herself, in only a pair of short-shorts and a tank-top. She grabbed clothes from her duffel and held up a finger to Sam. He sat in one of the plastic chairs and waited for her.

She walked out again not even ten minutes later wearing black jeans and a form fitting army shirt. Her hair was up in a ponytail and she sported a thin layer of black eyeliner. She curled her finger at Sam and walked out the door, grabbing the impala keys as she went. He followed her out into the early morning light and looked at her quizzically.

"I've had a helluva long two days, Sammy, and I want a real breakfast. We'll bring Dean a to-go box."

"Okay, sounds good."

"Whatddya think? I-Hop?" she asked, sliding into the drivers seat. Sam smiled and nodded. He got into the passenger seat. "Okay Prettyboy, what do you wanna talk about?"

Sam glanced at her and smiled. She hadn't looked away from the road, but could tell that he had something on his mind.

"Oh…the usual," he said. "The world is ending…and its my fault…and Lucifer wants to wear me as a meat suit."

"Yea…it is your fault," she said casually, catching him off-guard. "But that isnt the point anymore."

"Then what is the point?" Sam asked exasperated.

"The point is, how hard are you trying to fix it? And are you doing it for the right reasons?"

"What do you mean?"

"Are you trying to stop the apocalypse to save all those millions of people? Or are you doing it just so you can stand to look yourself in the mirror? So that you can look at your brother and say 'I made it better'?" She never raised her voice, and Sam almost wished she had. She was so level and calm and it was driving him crazy. She pulled into the I-Hop and walked inside with the sasquatch trailing behind her. They sat down and pulled out their menus. "Look around, Sam."

Sam looked.

"There's a family in the corner booth on the right side. Two kids, two parents. They're on vacation. There's a single father to the left of us, browsing the job sections in the paper. The waitress, who gave us our seats, she's engaged."

"So?" Sam asked, not getting it. Or how she had noticed all of that stuff in less than three minutes. She leaned across the table and looked him dead in the eyes.

"So…could you live with yourself…knowing that _you _would be the cause of ending all of their lives. Knowing that you are the cause of all their story's and dreams being stopped. Knowing that you are the reason why all the worlds relationships and vacations and father-son bonding moments are ended, permanently."

Sam shuddered and pinched the bridge of his nose. He wanted to cry. Because it was his fault. And there was nothing he could say that could change it.

"No…I couldn't," he answered honestly. Kat nodded in approval.

"Now…all you gotta do is stop bitching around with the whole 'poor me' mantra and grow a pair," she said cheekily. The waitress came and took their orders and Kat was sure to get Dean the meatiest thing they had in a to-go box with a black coffee.

"Okay, Okay, Okay. I thought I was having lunch with Kat…not Dean," he said chuckling.

"What have I told you about comparing me to your brother?" she quipped. Sam smiled and dug into his pancakes. She chewed on her bacon and sipped at her black coffee.

"Yea, you're right…you're way prettier than Dean."

"You know…I figured it would be Dean who would pull the sweet talk first."

"Yea he usually does, but I like to think I give the whole thing a bit more finesse than Dean." Sam winked at her.

"Oh, that you do." Her smile faded just a bit. "I think of you kinda like a brother, already. Crazy…right?"

Sam was quiet for a minute. "Actually…I'm kinda honored. I'd love to be your brother figure. And I'd never had a sister." Kat smiled gently and held his long hands.

"I've never had a brother who would fight for me," she said quietly.

"You'll never get left behind. Not with us," Sam said sincerely. She blinked back water and went back to her food.


	33. Chapter 33

**I'm Back! I'm uploading again…a few this time! And I'll try to upload again tomorrow. My many thanks to anyone who added me to their fav stories or author/story alert list, you guys make me happy. As do reviews! So do it! Let me know what you think!**

An hour later they were walking back in the motel door, Kat with Dean's food and coffee in hand. They stopped their chatter short as Dean came into view. He was sitting, fully dressed at the cheap table. His eyes were hard and his hands were fisted. Kat dashed to him and set his food down.

"Dean?" she asked in a small voice. He met her eyes and his face contorted into hatred. She jumped back and set his food on the table.

"Where the fuck were you?" he asked in a deadly voice. She trembled and looked fearfully to Sam. He was looking, shocked, at his brother.

"Breakfast," she squeaked. He snorted.

"Sure."

She was about to say something else when he stood sharply. He pushed past her and grabbed the keys from her hands.

"Don't take my fucking car again." He growled.

"Wait! Dean!" she called. He turned to glare at her and she held out his food. "at least take these." She handed out the to-go box and the coffee. Her eyes were in wide and glassy and hurt.

"Fine." He bit back and snatched the food. His back was tense and his eyes were still hard when he turned his back on her. But Sam saw the look of self-hatred in his eyes. Dean was ashamed at himself for overreacting, but was too proud to step down. He slammed the door on his way out.

Kat watched the door slam and flinched away from the sound. She heard the impala start up and she turned her pained eyes onto a shell-shocked Sam. He didn't know what to say. So she ran back into the bathroom and locked the door. She slid down onto the cheap and stained linoleum and went over the morning in her mind. What had she done wrong? How had she upset him? And why did it hurt so much to look into his eyes, when all that was there was rage?

Her back was against the door and her head in between her knees. She hated feeling like this. Didn't she deserve a break from the emotional whirlwind she had been a part of since she joined the Winchesters? The water stinging her eyes told her no.

'Stupid Dean,' she thought, sniffing loudly. He had to make her feel these things. 'Can't God give me a fucking break?'

She let out a muffled scream of frustration and et her head fall against the door.

"Kat?" Sam's voice was muffled and worried.

"I'm okay," she said forcefully. She stood then, and decided she wanted a hot shower. Under the beat of the water, she allowed a few stray tears to fall and pulled in a dry sob. She'd been through too much in the past few days. It was wearing on her and Dean was just the catalyst.

Half way through her shower, she realized she forgot clothes. When the water finally ran cold she ambled out and wrapped a towel firmly around her body. She cracked open the door and stuck her head out.

"Sam?"

"Yea?"

"Pass me my duffel?" she asked, trying not to turn red. Sam grabbed it and brought it to the door. She took it carefully. "Haven't we been in this situation before?"

"I was trying not to think about that."

"Why not?"

"Because of how red I was," he answered easily. She laughed lightly and shut the door behind her. She changed slowly, giving herself time to brush out her hair and do her minimal makeup perfectly. She cringed when she heard Dean's boots tromp into the room. The door didn't slam. It shut softly. She resumed her position on the floor, back against the door.

"Dean. You better have a damn good reason for how you treated her!" Sam said in a furious voice. She could just picture his bitch face.

She smiled just a bit at his brotherly action.

"No…not really," his voice was thick and tired.

"So you were just a complete jackass to the nicest person on the freaking Earth because you felt like it?"

"No."

"Then why, Dean? Why?" He paused. "Why would you act like that? Why would you look at her like that? Because you know what she did as soon as you left?"

"What?"

"She locked herself in the bathroom and tried to cry as quietly as possible!"

"Damn it!" She heard him walk towards the bathroom and slam his hands against the door. "Kat!" he sounded pained.

She remained silent. Curious.

"What happened, Dean?" Sam asked, quieter.

"I…Damn it. I had a nightmare! I had a dream that she died. Okay? I woke up and she wasn't there and I freaked out! The car was gone and so were you and I just assumed the worst. She came back with you, laughing like everything was fine and I snapped." He explained, sounding ashamed.

"You could have just said that," Sam said gently.

"Like I was thinking straight?" He sighed loudly against the door. "I screwed up. Bad."

"Dean…calm down."

"No…she doesn't deserve this. We put her through crap."

"Yea, but she could leave at anytime. She's choosing to be here," Sam tried to explain. She stood slowly and debated whether or not to open the door.

"And she got me that breakfast. She paid…didn't she?"

"Yea. She wouldn't let me. I offered like three times." She smiled, remembering his many attempts to cover the small tab.

"I am such a douche. I'm like…a bigger douche than Criss Angel. And he is a douche." Kat giggled loudly from behind the door and opened it slowly.

"Cant argue with that, Batman," she said softly. It only took about a mili-second for her to be crushed into a hug by the very man.

"I'm sorry I'm such a douche." He whispered. She chuckled in response and pulled away.

"You're forgiven." She said. "Did you like your breakfast?"

"One of the best I've had in a while," he admitted. She smiled happily and moved away from Dean. He tried to hide his ashamed face. He had seen the redness in her bright blue eyes and had known he was the cause.

Sam noticed the tense stance of his brother and sighed. One of them was always managing to screw things up. Kat was a trooper though, and never held anything they said or did against them. Even though, like Dean said, they were douches.

Kat couldn't believe she over reacted like that. So he'd been a bit rude. So what? She'd dealt with much worse from other hunters, just because she was a girl and was traveling with John. Not many hunters liked John, so not many hunters liked her. She shook her head and went to her laptop.

"So…What now?" she asked.

As if to answer her question, her phone rang. She answered it.

"Kat?" Ash's voice was urgent.

"Whatcha got?"

"A call from Ellen and Jo. They've got some screwed up mojo going down in Colorado. They need back up, real bad. And…they're's a small…small chance that War might be there." Ash said sounding worried. Kat had never officially met Ellen and Jo. The few times she had been to the Roadhouse with John, she'd either stayed in the car or played poker. She had told John about not liking to meet people, so as far as the mother and daughter were concerned, John had been traveling alone.

When she went back to the Roadhouse, Ellen and Jo had just left for the hunt.

"It's all we have, so we might as well. We'll be there in two days." She hung up and relayed the info to the boys. Their eyes grew with recognition.

"Ellen and Jo are out there?" Dean asked in a hard voice.

"Yup. Let's head out."

Dean and Sam were close to panic stricken and grabbed their duffels hastily. "How well do you know them?" She asked, as they got in the impala.

"We met them right after dad died. They've helped us out a lot. Ellen even helped us gank Yellow eyes," Dean said.

"Don't sell yourself short, Dean, you and Jo got pretty cozy," Sam teased in a feeble attempt to lighten the mood.

"She's a pretty girl," he said softly.

"You know you like her," Sam chided. Kat was silent, watching the exchange from her seat in the back. Dean seemed to notice it.

"I thought about it, sure, but never seriously." He sounded honest.

"She sure has," Sam mumbled.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Did you not see the way she looked at you on that one hunt?"

"You mean the one she lied to her mother to go on and almost got herself killed? Then got pissed at us? Cause that's what I remember." Kat giggled to herself and caught Dean's small smile in the mirror. "And now we gotta save her ass again!"

"I want to see how she reacts to Kat," Sam said chuckling to herself.

"Whaaa?" Kat asked stupidly, pulling herself from silence. Dean laughed openly at her and Sam shook his head.

"She'll be jealous," Sam said. Kat blanched.

"She's blonde, right?"

"Oh yea," Dean said smirking. "In all senses."

"So…she's a bitch?"

"You could say that."

"Joy."

Kat was no longer looking forward to saving this chick. She made a point of not hanging out with women her age because, in general, they were just so bitchy. And she didn't care who this girl was, or what kind of a past she had with Dean, it wouldn't change the way she worked. Or the way she slept in the same bed as Dean. It was the only way she could sleep the whole night through and she'd be dammed if she went back to those freaking nightmares.

After a straight eighteen hours of driving they finally pulled into a motel, so that they would be on their top game the next day.


	34. Chapter 34

**You asked for it, you got it! Here's Kat's thoughts! Love you guys!**

Kat snuck out of the new motel room, closing the door softly behind her. Even with Dean's body against hers, she couldn't find sleep, and she needed to be alone. The air was suffocating her and she needed to feel the wind in her hair.

She was only in a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top and the cold night air was seeping into her skin. She sat on the sidewalk, her arms cradling her knees and her eyes on the stars. They glittered brightly above her and she was distractingly aware that her mouth had opened slightly in awe of them. The encompassing black canvas above her succeeded in making her feel both small and large at the same time.

It struck her as odd, to think that in a few weeks, hardly anyone but demons would be there to see them. She wondered if you could see the stars in heaven. If she went to heaven. Which she thought she would.

She turned her gaze to the moon and knew that its light made her skin glow white. She wondered what color Dean's skin would be under this light. And his eyes. That bright green that spoke volumes and glowed. She pictured his face, smiling at her in this light.

Once upon a time, she didn't need anyone. She had Blake, and he didn't know anything about her. She had John, and Bobby who knew her secret and Jaime who had lived it. And Jenna who was more connected to her brother than anything; and she was content that way. Kat had been content being a hard-ass who rarely spoke and killed a lot.

Now thanks to two dumbasses she wore her heart on her sleeve and reveled in the comfort of another person's body. She didn't even recognize herself. The girl she saw in the mirror was flushed and her eyes had light. She didn't remember the last time they had light. Again, she blamed Dean.

And maybe this time he deserved it. She still barely knew him, and felt like she could trust him with beyond her life. She could trust him with her skin and her secrets. He would make sure that both came out intact.

Kat felt a wind on her bare legs and shivered in content. She had always liked the cold. She thought it was because that damn warehouse had been so hot. The heat would make sweat run into her open wounds and the salt would burn the tender flesh. The cold was good.

Her thoughts returned to the present and she wished she could stop the flashbacks. She got them at the worst times. The times when she was happy. Kat wanted to scream in frustration. Her thoughts were running in a thousand different directions and she couldn't keep track of them all. But she remained silent; afraid to wake the boys. The walls were paper thin and she feared they would crumble in the soft silence if she broke it.

Her skin was numb. She remembered when she felt numb to everything. Now it felt like someone had slashed her open to expose her soul, and kept screwing with her to see how it would react to the exposed air. She had preferred pretending like she didn't have a soul.

But now it was clear that she did. She closed her blue eyes to the sky and the stars and the moon and wasn't sure whether to cringe or smile at what she pictured in her mind.

Dean.

She stood on shaky legs, hating this reaction she had to him, and snuck back into the motel room. Dean's bed was closest to the door, as always. She slipped into the blankets and looked at him. The hard and precise lines of his face. The high cheekbones and chiseled jaw. The cupids-bow lips and the soft eyes. Damn it. This would be easier for her if he wasn't so beautiful.

She raised her small, thin fingers and traced the dark circles under his eyes. Her skin barely touched his, but it sent tingles up her arm. She smirked as his mouth twitched. He was awake. Instead of calling him on it, she let her arm hang in the crook of his shoulder and stuck the other under her head. She pressed her body against his and felt the hard muscles. She felt his chest rise and fall with something close to content and wondered if he needed her to sleep, as much as she needed him.

She let her eyes close and block out his face and the moon and let herself fall into the blackness of her mind…hoping…that Dean's arms would catch her.


	35. Chapter 35

The next day, there were no jokes or smiles. War was ahead. Possibly literally. They packed quickly and showered even quicker and they were at the Colorado crossing in four hours. They had all the info they needed and were armed for anything.

When they arrived in the town, Kat felt fear gripping her. But more than that she felt the beginnings of anger.

"He's here." She announced. Sam and Dean nodded their understanding and they drove within the city limits.

It was a ghost town. Cars overturned and riddled with bullet holes, smoke rising from the streets, trash littering the empty sidewalks. Dean stopped the car and all three of them loaded up with emo and weapons quickly.

"It doesn't look like anyone's here," Sam said quietly. Dean ran his eyes over the buildings and cocked his shotgun. Kat moved her head like a lioness and dropped as a riddle of bullets rained down on where her head had just been.

"Since when do demons have guns?" Kat screamed as she leaned over the trunk like a sniper and took out two of the black-eyed monsters. Then she stopped short. "We need to find Ellen. Now." She said forcefully.

Dean and Sam nodded and they prepared to run toward a convenient store to the left.

"Don't shoot anyone." She said quietly. Dean and Sam looked at her like she was crazy. "You have to trust me!" They nodded and then they ran.

Dean rammed his body into the door and busted it open, falling over himself as he tried to remain upright.

"Dean!" came a high-pitched cry. Then Dean was engulfed with blonde. Kat's eyebrow was raised and her arms crossed gently.

"Hey…um Jo…howya been?"

"Better now that you're here," she said back. Kat closed her eyes in deliberation. She could shoot her now, so that her voice would stop, or she could put up with her…and shoot her later. Later for now. When she opened them it was with the barrel of a gun.

"Who the fuck are you?" Jo was pretty. And in for it. Before she could even take the safety off, Kat had grabbed the barrel and sent the gun skyward. On its way down, she grabbed it effortlessly and pointed it at her.

"Someone you shouldn't fuck with."

She huffed and went to press herself against Dean, but he stepped back carefully. Kat looked up and scanned the room. An older blonde walked up to her slowly.

"You must be Kat."

"Ellen," she acknowledged.

"You're Kat?" The sound was derisive and Kat felt her old self returning.

"You're Jo?" She mimicked her. Jo blinked and looked to Dean for support, who just looked amused. "Don't you smirk at me, mister!" His face became serious.

"Whatta we got?" Sam interjected.

"About half the town's possessed and they have guns," Ellen explained. "These are the survivors." She indicated the twenty or so people crammed into the convenient store. Kat raised her hand. "Yes?"

"Um, They're not-"

"So, we need to split up to take them out," Jo interjected stubbornly. Dean looked at her reproachfully.

"But, they're not-"

"Dean, you come with me."

"Damn it! Stop being a bitch for two seconds while people's lives are at stake!" Kat screamed. Jo blinked and tongued her teeth like a stubborn teenager. "They're not demons!"

"Of course they are. I thought Ash said you knew what you were doing," Jo said.

Kat lost it. She pushed herself up until she was less than an inch from Jo's face. "Listen. I've seen more carnage and blood than you ever have in your entire sad existence. Don't fuck with me and shut your mouth. This coming from the one who took your gun with out breaking a sweat," she growled.

"As I was saying…"

"Look, honey, we don't have time for this." Ellen said turning her back on the girl who threatened her daughter.

Kat pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed deeply. Damn these people. This was why she liked to have hunts on her own. She glanced at Dean and held up a finger, signaling for him to wait a moment. Then, just to spite Jo, she pushed her aside and hugged him.

"Stall. I have to show you something," she hissed in his ear. "Now smile and nod like I said something sexy. It'll be hilarious!"

Dean complied with a soft chuckle. She smiled at him and ran out the way she had come, tossing Jo her gun as she went.

"Maybe we should just chill out and make a plan," Dean said, grinning. Jo glared at him.

"What is she to you?"

"No offence Jo, but none of your business. You're the one that say goodbye," he said looking at her seriously.

"I'm going to go with Ellen," Sam said, looking to get out of this. He knew why Kat's face had deflated when she heard the jealous word. He couldn't stand to be around Jo. She was a psycho when it came to hunting. She always had to be right, and it made everyone else's job harder.

"But…"

"But nothing. You had no right to treat her like that," Dean's voice was hard and unforgiving. Jo's eyes filled with water and she tried to crumble in Dean's arms. He stepped back. "We have a job to do. And you need to get your head in the game."

"Okay…b-but I don't like her. She doesn't deserve you," she said shakily.

"No. I don't deserve her," he said forcefully. He turned to the people and started to asses the situation. "Who here needs medical attention?" He went to help stitch some people up and left Jo behind him. She was still standing there, her eyes hard.


	36. Chapter 36

**And this is where I leave you for today….ENJOY!**

It took a half hour. Dean was worried sick about her. And his brother, but at least he had Ellen. He had resorted to the far end of the convenient store, talking to some of the survivors and getting their story. About how suddenly their friends and neighbors and family had their eyes consumed by blackness and their arms raised, ready to fire.

"Get the fuck into this 7/11 or so help me god I will cut you!" Kat's voice brought a smile to Dean's voice. He looked up in time to see Kat walk in with a young boy in a blindfold and her wearing sunglasses. She sat the kid in a chair and walked to Dean. She grabbed a vial of his holy water and doused the kid. Nothing happened. She read an exorcism. Nothing happened.

"What are you trying to prove?" Jo asked.

"That War is screwing with you," she said, as she removed the blindfold. The kids eyes were pitch black. Weapons were aimed. "If you shoot this kid I will fucking kill all of you. I'm not joking." Jo kept hers' raised. She walked purposefully towards her. Kat snarled at her and moved to protect the shivering boy. Jo yanked the sunglasses off of Kat's pale face and growled.

"Demon." With out hesitation, Jo raised her shotgun and pointed it squarely at Kat. She backed up hastily, not wanting her gun knocked out of her hands again.

"War, you son of a fucking bitch," Kat whispered.

"Jo. Don't you dare!" Dean screamed. Sam and Ellen ran back in at the sound.

"Kat!" Sam shouted.

"Jo, what are you doing?" Dean yelled at her.

"She just proved that you can't exorcise it and holy water doesn't even affect it! We have to shoot it!"

"She has a name!" Dean and Sam shouted in sync. The rest of the people in the room were screaming for her to shoot. Urging for her to end it. Kat glared at Jo, willing her body to reject the blackness.

"Christo," Kat said casually. Dean pointed.

"See!"

But there were too many other people urging for her to shoot and Jo pulled the trigger.

_"KAT!"_


	37. Chapter 37

**I looooooooove you guys! Your reviews are like food, except if I read you I wont get fat. Please let me know what you think! **xxmaskedchickxx, **your comment made my day. No joke. Thank you to any readers and reviewers, if your review makes my day, I'll mention you. You have all my love!**

Dean watched as Kat fell back. The blood already pouring from her stomach. Her eyes were normal, and slightly glazed. He and Sam had screamed her name as her body bent over. The slug embedding itself into her abdomen.

"I swear to God, if you fucked up my wings I'll kill you. Slowly," she hissed at a shocked Jo.

Dean rushed to her and grabbed towels he'd used on others. Sam turned on Jo.

"Why didn't you listen?" he screamed, running to Kat. Dean was cradling her head and murmuring into her hair.

"You'll be fine. You'll be fine. It'll be okay."

"Yea. Through and through, nothing vital I don't think," Kat's strangled voice said. She sat up, pushing against Dean's restraints. "I was trying…to tell you. I shot at those people, outside…and I couldn't see anything underneath," she looked at Dean.

"You couldn't see the demons?" Dean asked, knowing that she could.

"N-No. Not even b-black smoke." She coughed and wiped the blood on her jeans. She looked at Sam. "You need…the ring. He's outside. On the far right, behind the cafe. He's been watching both parties. Turning them against each other. Get the ring…and it'll stop."

Sam nodded and ran out. Dean was still panicking. Kat braced herself against him and stood carefully. Her legs wobbled and her blood-loss was beginning to affect her. She looked at Dean and lifted her shirt from the back to expose the exit wound.

"Did it hit my wings?"

"N-no…exited right in between," Dean said, struggling to not cry.

"I need you to get me…whiskey and a lighter and dental floss," she commanded, taking out a machete with a wide flat blade from a thigh holster. Dean barked the orders to the stunned refugees and they complied. She popped the top of the whiskey with her teeth and drank a fourth of it. She poured some onto her open wound, taking off her shirt completely to leave her in a black bra. She sat back down heavily.

Dean was taken aback by her audacity and how well she was doing. She glared at Jo.

"This is what happens when you don't listen to the experienced ones," she said in a baby voice.

"Listen here, you," Ellen started but Dean stopped her.

"No. Jo was wrong and she might have killed her," he started in a hard unforgiving voice. "Both of you should have listened. But you always have to be right. Damn it!" he swore as she held the lighter underneath the blade, waiting for it to heat.

"How was I supposed to believe her?" Jo shouted.

"Because she knows better than you!"

"I doubt that!"

"I've been seeing and dealing with demons since I was five years old," Kat said bitterly. "Hey Dean…"

"Yea?"

"This is why I prefer hunting alone."

"I see your point now."

She laughed lightly and inspected the blade. It radiated heat, and though it was not the ideal bright orange, it would do. She arched her back, pushing the open wound forward, then brought the flat of the blade to her skin.

The sizzle of flesh and the raw screams from Kat were the only sounds in the store. The refugees had taken a silent remorseful vigil, knowing the part they had played. Dean turned his head, unable to look at the contorted agony on her face. The bullet had gone straight through the knife wound that had been healing. She had to pull out the old stitches from the blood, wincing as she did. The machete did what it was supposed to, and the bleeding stopped.

"Dean. I know it's a lot to ask…but-" she started. Dean took the blade and lighter and prepared to repeat the process on her back. Jo was silent. "Hey bitch!"

"What?"

"Aren't you going to apologize?" she asked.

"Um..I…I" she started.

Dean glared at her. "Jo. This is your fault. You did this to her. You fucking shot her! You better fucking apologize and then I better not see you again. At least not until I don't want to kill you."

"But Dean I, it was an accident!"

"No. It wasn't." Dean seethed.

"Jo! Stop being a child! You wanted to be a hunter, then act like one." Ellen ordered. She left her daughter and walked over the cringing girl on the dirty linoleum. Kat tried to muffle her screams as she threaded each stitch into her stomach. Ellen held her shoulders. "Honey, I'm so sorry. We should have listened."

"S'Okay. But I don't plan on hunting with you again…any time soon."

"Understandable to say the least. You gotta lotta John's spunk. He and Bobby had a big hand in your life, didn't they?"

"Fathers…I..ahhh….never had," she said. Dean tapped her indicating his readiness and pressed the blade again to her skin, carefully avoiding her wings. Her scream ripped through the quiet store again. Sam rushed back in with pain on his features.

"Kat!" he screamed. He looked helplessly on as Dean held the flat of the blade to her.

"Did…did you get it?" She forced out, water leaking out of her eyes.

Sam held up a bloody finger, a solid gold ring attached to it. Kat sighed in relief and stood again.

"Stitch me up later. I'm getting to fuck outta here," she said bitterly. She stood wobbly and limped toward the doors. Dean and Sam just looked on, shocked. Kat smirked and continued to walk towards Jo. When she was close enough, she smiled at the blonde woman. Then she pulled back her arm and let it shoot forward in a fist. Jo was out before she hit the ground. "That felt good."

Dean laughed loudly and walked to her, and let Kat lean on him as they walked out. Sam hurried to catch up to them and bid goodbye to the shell-shocked people.


	38. Chapter 38

**Okayy, the moment of truth…..She meets….*drum roll* CASTIEL!**

**This one is insanely short but I'm giving you guys all SAM next so enjoy this!**

**REVIEW.**

They found a motel and Dean practically carried her in. Sam helped her stitch up her back while Dean went back outside. He looked up and let his head fall back heavily.

"Cas," He called out. The man appeared next to him. "Fix her please. We can't do our jobs if she's hurt like this."

"Dean, I-" Cas stopped himself. He didn't want to see her. He didn't want to be near her. But because Dean asked, he would do it. "Okay."

Dean exhaled in relief and opened the motel door. Kat didn't look up, but Sam did.

"Cas, what are you doing here?" Kat looked up and her eyes showed nothing. The blood loss had made her bleary and she was close to being unconscious. It was likely that she didn't even notice the angel in a trench coat.

"I'm here to heal her. Did you get the ring?" He asked in his gruff voice as he moved towards the broken woman on the bed.

"Yea," Sam said holding it up and moving his needle away. Cas nodded and raised two fingers to Kat's forehead. She smiled in a half-conscious state and giggled.

"You're shiny," she whispered. She looked up and poked his face. Castile's mouth twitched upwards slightly and his eyes closed. His fingers touched her skin and her back arched slightly. When she fell back onto the bed, her skin was smooth again. She looked back up at Cas and smiled. "Your wings are pretty."

Cas disappeared as her eyes closed and her breathing deepened. Dean laid down heavily on the bed next to her and looked at Sam.

"We never get a break…do we?"

"God no," he responded, taking off his shirt and collapsing on his bed.

"Hey man, after we stop the apocalypse…we should go somewhere."

"Like where?"

"How bout Fiji?" Dean said smirking.

"That sounds nice…you think Kat'll go?"

"I'll force her to. She needs a vacation more than either of us."

"Amen to that. I would have cracked by now," Sam said.

"Same." Dean pulled her to his body and sighed. "What are we gonna do?"

"Worry about it in the morning," Sam replied, already sounding groggy. Dean nodded in the darkness and closed his eyes.


	39. Chapter 39

**And now we're in Sam's head. Brace yourself for the onslaught of angst coming your way!**

**Also really short, but I'll through the sasquatch a bone later and take some more of his thoughts. For right now it's just this though.**

What were they going to do? Sam stayed on his back, his eyebrows furrowed. He had to stop this. The pain he was causing his loved ones was driving him insane. Kat mumbled in her sleep, but he couldn't tell what it was from where he was.

He owed her a lot. In one breakfast, she managed to talk more sense into him than anyone else ever had. She had brought Sam his brother back. And she had hit Jo. He'd wanted to do that since she showed up in middle of their hunt.

Sam's hazel eyes roamed the empty ceiling and his bare chest rose and fell steadily. His nightmares had gotten better. Kat had shown him that she wouldn't judge him for his mistakes. Her presence had softened his brother and eased his own guilt. He slept easier knowing she was just a bed away.

He knew that Dean cared for her. More than any other woman he'd ever known. More than Cassie. He never made a move on her and he only touched her at night. Under the sun, they rarely touched, as if it was something they were only able to do under the cover of darkness. Sam found it endlessly amusing, but knew if he voiced his thoughts, either one of them could castrate him. He wouldn't put it past Kat. The fire in her ran deep and it scared Sam sometimes. He promised himself to never be on the receiving end of that flame.

Sam ran his long hands through his hair. He needed a haircut. Maybe he would get his bangs back again. He liked his bangs. He figured he would ask Kat to cut it for him tomorrow. That was better than getting shot at.

He wondered if Dean would let them take a day…just a day…to sleep in and not worry. He hated this worrying. It was worse than facing Yellow Eyes. At least then they knew what would kill him. This time they had nothing. They had the rings, but he had no idea how the hell they would get Lucifer to jump in.

He sighed and tried not to think about it. It was easier to take things just a day at a time. If he thought to hard about it, he would go insane. Considering the fact that he liked rational thought, he forced his thoughts onto something nice. Like…unicorns.

Yea, maybe he could think of something better.

He just hoped that once he stopped the apocalypse, because yes…he would stop it, he could settle down. Find a girl. Find a home.

But really, he couldn't help but think that Kat was right. This was his life, and hunting would always pull him back. The world would always need him, and as much as he wanted out, he couldn't. He wished he would find someone like Kat. A hunter who knew this life. Someone he could relate to and not lie to. He wanted what she and Dean were too blind to see they had.

But the woman he loved was dead. And he wished he could stop seeing her, pinned to the ceiling and erupting into flame. But first he had to get through the end of the world. One thing at a time.

Sam closed his eyes and felt his face relax, as his subconscious consumed him.


	40. Chapter 40

**I wish I could give you something totally exciting for the big 4-0, but instead I wanted a day off. Sorta. They never get it AND, I'm finally remedying a problem I've had since mid-season two. I hope you appreciate it as much as me.**

Kat raised the scissors and snipped a piece, letting the hair fall back to slightly curl below his ear. She smiled and shook out the hair. She moved to the front of him and pulled the long hair forward, snipping it at brow level and shaking that out so that the part line disappeared.

"All done," she announced, stepping back so that Sam could look in the mirror.

"Thanks, it looks great!" he said and admired his hair in the mirror. He felt younger. Like he did when he first got back in the impala. Dean had been less cynical then. He'd gotten better now that Kat had joined them though.

"I try," she said breezily. She pushed Sam to the side and ran her fingers through her hair. Sam looked at her oddly as she added bangs to herself and did thick layers all throughout her long hair. When she shook it out, Sam's eyes grew large. She looked hot and bad ass and deadly. Her hair was straight today and Sam could easily imagine her in a leather suit with a big gun. "So?"

"I'm hovering between gorgeous and deadly," he admitted. She grinned impishly and pranced out of the small bathroom.

Dean looked up in time to see Kat walk out, her new edgy hair bouncing around her.

"Whoa! When did this happen?" He asked.

"just now! You likey?"

"Mhmm…Sam! You look like you!" Dean said shocked.

"I know. Thank Kat."

"Thank you Kat!"

She smiled and stretched out her thin body. "Let's go get a burger, I'm sooooo hungry!"

"Girl with an appetite, I can respect that," Dean said, grabbing the impala keys and slapping Sammy on the back. They ate slowly, all trying to extend their one day vacation as long as they could. They laughed and joked like they were just college kids. Kat acted like the twenty-two year old she was and so did Dean…even though he wasn't. Sam mediated between the two's banter squabbles and one-up competitions, but was still pulled into more than one.

Kat was smiling and laughing and joking and she felt so _normal_. Dean watched her eyes light up at every joke and every laugh. Then she slowed down and looked at the two boys.

"Oh God."

"What?" the boys sad together.

"I forgot to call Bobby!"

"Shit," again together. They stood in the restaurant and practically ran out. They were in the car and on the road in minutes.

"I got so caught up in everything! I can't believe I forgot about Bobby!" She ranted to herself. "Stupid Dean."

"How is this _my _fault?" He screamed as he inched the gas down.

"Because you distract me!" She was running her fingers through her new hair and trying to focus. She got out her phone and dialed the man who was practically her father. "Don't yell at me!" She shouted by way of greeting.

"Come home. Now," was the gruff reply.

"I'm so so sorry! Blame Dean!" She rushed to say.

"Why?"

"Bitch!" Dean shouted.

"He's distracting me!"

"Uhuh. Sure."

"Seriously! He's been getting me to sleep the whole night through and he keeps dragging me into other things and Dear God the drama he stirs up! He even got me to spill!"

"Really?"

"Everything."

"No shit?"

"No Shit." She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "We'll be there in six hours."

"No stops."

"But I want some gummy bears!"

"Well, you should have called," he said indignantly.

"I love you," Kat said softly.

"I love you too, Kit-Kat." He hung up and she curled up in the back.

"We're not allowed to stop," she informed the boys.

"Why is everything always my fault?" Dean asked.

"Because it usually is," Sam answered cheekily.

"Bitch."

"Jerk."

Dean was smiling. He loved the easy banter they had now. They were talking like they did when they were looking for John. They were no longer just going through the motions of hunting and sleeping and pretending like they still had a friendship. Now they were feeding off of each others energy and living like they gave a shit.

Dean thought Kat might be the cause of that. But he'd be damned if he told her that.

He looked over to his still laughing brother and was something close to happy. Sam looked like himself again and acted even more so. Also thanks to Kat. He knew she had talked sense into his gigantor brother and he owed her a lot.

Not that he would let her know.


	41. Chapter 41

**This is some more lovely Bobby-Kat bonding, which is a blast to write and then we might see some CHUCK. Because I love that man and he IS god. No joke. Once again, **_**xxmaskedchickxx**_** your comments make me sooo happy. They're hilarious to read and give me warm fuzzies. Okay… and away we gooo.**

They drove for hours straight, making it to the salvage yard at six the in the morning. Kat grabbed her duffel and meandered into the house, not bothering to keep it down. Bobby would hear her anyway. The very man rolled himself into the living room and fixed her with a hard stare.

"Don't look at me like that! I got shot yesterday!"

Bobby turned his eyes to the Winchester boys, who were backing up slowly.

"I told you…to keep her safe," he said slowly and deliberately.

"Jo did it," Dean said quickly. "I got Cas to heal her though."

"Yea, after I had to cauterize it," she huffed.

"With what?" Bobby screamed.

"A machete," she said quietly.

"Oh, Jesus," Bobby sighed, sagging in his chair. "And that fairy tax-accountant fixed you up?"

"Apparently. I was pretty out of it," Kat admitted. "Wait, is Cas another angel?"

"You're the one that commented on his wings," Dean said, taking a seat on the couch.

"I did?"

"Don't forget how _shiny_ he was," Sam added, snickering.

"Shut up, Sammy,"

Sam took it in stride and both other men were shocked he didn't correct her. She did like nicknames after all. Instead he just brushed past her to a chair, ruffling her hair as he went. She pouted up at him, and went to the couch. She sat far away from Dean, choosing instead to rest her upper body on the arm rest and curl her legs underneath her.

Dean didn't take offense. She had her odd quirks and cuddling openly wasn't something high on her list of priorities. That didn't mean, however, that he didn't_ want_ to pull her to him. He definitely _wanted_ to. But just from the way she was sitting, she looked content enough just to be home. Because this was as much her home as he felt it was his. Maybe even more so.

Bobby rolled himself to a comfortable spot where he could see everyone. Sam wordlessly handed him the ring along with his research and notes. Bobby read everything quickly and thoroughly before staring at Kat carefully.

"Let me get this straight," he started. "You just killed the evil sonofabitch that tortured you for eleven years and instead of at least taking a break, you're jumping head first into stopping the apocalypse with these two chuckle-heads and their Team Free Will?"

"Pretty much," she replied while Sam and Dean looked guiltily at Bobby.

"You are one of a kind, young lady."

"I try," she said sleepily. She smiled up at Bobby and he returned it. "I did good though, huh?"

"Definitely. Ash said you got 'em all out. Hardly a scratch."

"And he's dead. No mistake."

"That's a big plus," he admitted. She chuckled darkly. "You enjoy it?"

"Hell yea!" She paused to think about it. "Biggest sense of relief I've had since Gabriel pulled me out."

"So it was that damned loony?"

"Yup. I liked him."

"Liked?"

"He's dead," she said softly. There was genuine grief in her voice and in her eyes. "Tried to take out Lucifer for us."

"Idjit." Bobby sighed. "Always the brave ones."

"Amen," Kat said bitterly. Dean and Sam remained silent. It felt like they were intruding on a father-daughter moment and a private funeral at the same time. It was awkward for them to say the least. At least until Kat snatched the remote and flipped to a football game. "Would ya look at this idjit? I mean he's open! HE'S OPEN!" she immediately started screaming at the screen. A minute later Bobby joined her and they started placing bets on who would win. "Steelers, five hundred." She took the money out of her bra and laid it on the coffee table. Bobby frowned.

"Saints, double or nothing."

The Steelers won by a final two points, causing both Kat and Dean to jump off the couch and scream like morons. Followed by Kat angling her body toward Bobby and pulling out her rarely used and endlessly amusing gangster stances.

"What?" she said in that ghetto way that didn't elicit a response and was more because she won. She smirked as the male hunters laughed at her childish behavior, but she had the money. She tucked it into her bra and snuggled back into the couch. Bobby watched carefully as Dean reached a hand over to swipe some of her long hair out of her face. She made a noise of thanks and kept her eyes glued to the screen as a basketball game came on next.

Dean looked up to see the older man watching him and smiled sheepishly. Bobby stared at him for a long time, before inclining his head and smiling softly. It was obvious that he wasn't trying to get her in bed. Which was something he would fight to the very end.

None of them were tired, so Kat picked herself off and went to the kitchen.

"Did you eat enough?" she asked Bobby.

"Made it through that baked chicken and some of that pasta.

"You all need to eat more!" she said in a chastising voice.

"Yes mom!" all of them answered at once. She smiled to herself and started cooking a big breakfast. By the time she was done Dean was about to go insane. It smelled even better than that IHop breakfast and he was starving. When she called them in she already had full plates laid out. It was clear whose was whose. Sam's had a side of fruit and a blonde coffee. Bobby's had whole grain toast, grits, and more eggs than bacon. His had a black coffee. Dean's was mostly meat with a black coffee. Kat's was similar to Dean's only a miniature proportion of food and double the coffee.

"Wow. You know us really well," Sam said, shocked.

"I'm just observant."

"And incredible! This is so good!" Dean moaned as he stuffed his mouth with bacon and sausage. She accepted the compliment.

"Why is mine all heart healthy crap?" Bobby asked.

"Because you have high blood pressure," she said in a chipper voice.

"Only cause of you three idjits."

"Well, we gotta keep you healthy. So suck it up and eat. It'll taste fine," she said in a no-nonsense voice.

"But I want more bacon!"

"And I wanted some gummy bears," she reminded him cheekily. Sam and Dean snorted in their laughter at Bobby's crest-fallen face. "So we research today?"

"Yea, we got the basics, but we need a plan for the actual push. And there's always the Colt," Bobby answered.

"You think that will work?" Kat asked skeptically.

"Worth a shot," Dean said smirking. "Catch that? Worth a shot? Cause it's the Colt?"

"Yea, we got that, Dean," Kat and Sam responded in sync.

"Anyway, I got wind from Chuck that Bela didn't give it to Lilith. She gave it to her right hand demon…Crowley."

"Who's Chuck?" Kat asked.

"That bitch! Does this guy still have it?" Dean cut in.

"Most likely. But he's a crossroads demon. They don't give up anything easily," Bobby explained.

"Who's Chuck?" Kat asked again.

"No one is negotiating with this guy," Sam said forcefully. No one else would go to hell over this.

"Who's Chuck?"

"We might not have a choice. It depends on if we can get him talking," Bobby said. Kat took out her gun and pointed it at Dean.

"Someone answer my fucking question! I don't like bringing this thing out at breakfast but seriously!" She said exasperated.

"Would you watch where you point that damn thing!" Dean shouted.

"Calm down. Chuck is a prophet," Bobby explained. "He writes those Supernatural books you used to read."

Comprehension dawned on her face as she put her gun away.

"You read those?" Sam asked, embarrassed.

"Yea, sure. That's how I knew a lot of that stuff. Once they mentioned John and Bobby I knew they were legit. I kept it to myself so that the old men wouldn't have heart attacks," she said fondly.

"Yea, I wasn't too happy with her when I found out."

"So he's a real prophet? What's he like?"

"Smelly," Sam said.

"Alcoholic," Dean said. "And skittish. Nervous little sucker, he was," he added.

"Can we visit him?" She asked, her voice blooming with child-like excitement.

"We might have to. He can let us know if the Colt can do anything and we can look over some of his notes on the horsemen. He's bound to have some by now," Sam said reasonably.

"Do you want to come, Bobby?" Kat asked.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I read some of what he wrote about me. I don't want to be liable for hurting him," he said stiffly.

"But I thought he really flattered you!"

"He did. I'm not a big invincible hero," he said gruffly.

"No. Just a grumpy old man with high blood pressure and a salvage yard," she said sarcastically.

"Yes…wait I'm not grumpy!"

"Sure you're not."

Dean watched in amusement as she pushed Bobby's buttons until he pushed himself away from his chair.

"I'm gonna go research," he declared. She smiled brightly as he left and took his plate to the sink.

"You really like to annoy him, don't you?" Sam asked.

"Keeps him in line," she responded cheekily.


	42. Chapter 42

**Okie-Dokie, another upload! This one is more Dean-Kat oriented and you also get a peek at what her life was like when she was with Alistar. Review, so I know what you think and what you want more of or less of! I love you guys!**

The rest of the day was spent with their noses stuffed into books and computer screens as they tried to think of any alternatives they could. In the end it was only the Colt and the rings that might even begin to work. They had gotten nowhere.

Dean had been debating with himself all day, if he should try to sleep in the same bed as her. He knew he needed to, or he wouldn't sleep, but Bobby wouldn't approve. When Kat took the couch again, he steeled himself to a night of lying awake or nightmares.

He was the last to leave the cramped living room, and stopped only long enough to trail his hand across her cheek. She looked up at his retreating form and stood quickly. He stopped at the foot of the stairs as he heard her coming. He turned around and was immediately wrapped in a hug. Her arms were around his neck and her body was against his. They breathed in the others scent, hoping that would be enough for one night.

As they pulled apart, Kat wondered what her lips would feel like with the barely-there stubble beneath them. She didn't risk it, thought the want to do it was nagging at her mind. He smiled down at her warmly, his eyes promising her that they would sleep easier soon. She nodded her understanding and put her head on his chest for a moment.

"Sweet dreams, Batman," she whispered.

"Sweet dreams, Kit-Kat," he responded, kissing the top of her head on reflex. She didn't respond to it, knowing it was likely a show of brotherly affection. She only smiled a bit wider and meandered her way back to the couch.

Dean held his place for a moment, his lips still tingling. He hadn't even touched skin. He wondered what it would be like to really kiss her. He imagined fireworks and canon blasts and fast-erupting all-consuming fire. Then he mentally-slapped himself. After everything she had been through, she wasn't thinking about him. Or kissing him. It was probably just because he hadn't had sex in over three weeks.

He thought, as he was walking up the stairs, about going out for a one-night stand. But couldn't bring himself to do it. He wouldn't enjoy it. Something was wrong with him. Sex was a huge part of his life, and right now, he didn't want any woman. Except fort he one he wouldn't get. He tried to put it up to the fact that she was beautiful. Because she was. He tried to pretend it was her body that enticed him. Because it was. He tried to pretend that it wasn't her soft voice, or child-like innocence, or fearful touch, or strong will, or her skills with hunting that drew him to her like a magnet. Even though it was.

Damn her, he thought as he crashed onto his bed. She was making him feel hot and cold and calm and tingly and he loved it and he hated it. He wanted to go back to normal, but couldn't bring himself to turn his back on her. Why did it feel like he was cheating, just thinking about other women? He didn't even like her! Okay, maybe…No. He didn't. Couldn't.

He lie awake all night, his thoughts never slowing down long enough for him to sleep.

Kat was afraid, as she curled herself onto he couch. She would have let him kiss her. She would have let him. She didn't know what she was becoming. Her hands were shaking and her eyes wouldn't stay closed. She trusted him.

It scared her that she had so easily become vulnerable to him. And he was a heartbreaker. It wasn't as if she liked him. Because she wouldn't allow herself to, and besides, she didn't even know what that felt like. She had been with Blake for her own benefit. He was knowledgeable and had liked her. They both got something. Granted, he never got her in bed, and she never got her demon. So she figured they were even.

When she finally fell asleep, it was to have her dreams plagued with nightmares.

DREAM::

It was so hot. The humidity was seeping into her from everywhere and she felt her hair sick to her neck. It made her sweaty and the sweat would run down her body, into open wounds. Her frail body was writhing against the hot metal slab, and she wanted to fight back. She was chained from every limb to every corner. She had no escape. She never had.

The man hovering over her stepped back to admire her. Her almost white skin was open in several places, the rivers of red slipping into lines of sweat and the creases between her visible ribs. She was naked. Her unmarked chest rose and fell painfully as she felt her two broken ribs protest. A slice along her shoulder blade collected sweat from her neck and made her scream at the contact of salty water and open flesh.

The man smiled, but she could see the demon beneath the skin. He was enjoying this. He stepped closer to her, and she wanted to shrink away. But he had long ago taught her that accepting it was easier. There was less pain that way.

"My Angel…you are too beautiful for your own good," he whispered to her. She wished she was ugly. She wished the very sight of her made him sick. But it didn't and she was beautiful. He ran a gentle hand down her neck and she knew what would come next.

"Please. Don't…not again," she whimpered. Her legs were chained, but she struggled to close them anyway.

He just grinned, stripping off his shirt. "Relax. You might enjoy yourself." She screamed. It was a reflex, and it never helped, but she did it anyway. She felt his hands clamp over her mouth and felt his real skin against hers. And her mind raced to other things. But the heat was suffocating her thoughts and she couldn't stop screaming. It was so hot. And she screamed louder still, as the heat from the room and from his hellish flesh engulfed her.


	43. Chapter 43

**Okay, so only one upload today, but it's pretty emotional so….yea. xxmaskedchiuckxx and mionaghostwolf, your comments made my day! :DDD…Ryah, go away. You can say that stuff on facebook cause you're my best friend, but on here it ruins my mojo. Bitch. And yea..i love you too. -.-**

**Anyway…here it is!**

Kat woke up screaming. She hadn't done that in years but the screams were raw and painful. Sam and Dean were at her side in what felt like seconds but she knew it was longer than that. She should have been able to control herself, but now her screams were mixed with sobs and she had, at some point, moved from the couch to a far corner of the room. Her back seared in pain and it felt like her old scars were new again and they were burning. There were piles of books around her and they closed her in. She wasn't sue when she moved there, but there was only one way out of them. Her small body had curved in on itself and her fingers had threaded into her thick black hair. As if she was trying to hold her mind together.

"What? Kat, what's wrong?" Dean shouted as he held his pistol out in front of him. Kat looked up at the noise but her eyes were distant and she couldn't see him. Her legs were covered in scars that lay flat against her and almost blended with her abnormally pale skin on a good day. But in the warm light in Bobby's house, they stood out sharply. Sam could see her muscles spasm as if she were in pain. He couldn't see a cause of it.

Bobby had joined them, looking exhausted, but aware. He had pulled himself from his bed and landed uncomfortably in his chair but he had to answer her screams. He looked on sadly as Dean tried to approach her. She shrank back further into the wall of musty paper and leather bound books.

"Make it stop! Please!" she managed to choke out, her mind still replaying all that had happened to her. She wished she had her gun. She would have put it to her head and ended it all in that one moment. Sam watched her eyes change and knew that it was her own mind that was fighting her. And it was winning. There was nothing but defeat and terror behind her eyes and he wished he could help her. Dean still held his gun out and was watching her with anxious eyes.

"Bobby, what's wrong with her? How do we help?" He begged the older man. He was close to tears. Kat was strong. She wasn't supposed to break down like this.

"This is how it used to be," he said thickly. "She had a nightmare. A really, really bad one."

"It's so hot in here," the broken girl whispered. Dean looked at her oddly, but quickly found a small battery powered fan and angled it towards her. She stopped shaking at least. He didn't wait for Bobby's go ahead and put his gun down before he walked towards herr. His hands were held in front of him, in surrender, but she was still panicked.

"I wouldn't do that," Bobby started. Dean ignored him and laid a careful hand on her shoulder.

Kat jerked away from him as the pain in her back spiked. She didn't understand what Alistar was doing. He had already branded her, and now it felt like he was making it come alive and rip off of her skin. Her own body was attacking itself, and she couldn't do anything. It wasn't hot anymore, and Alistar's hands felt soft and soothing. She knew his touch could be as deceptive as his words and kept cringing. The hands were more calloused than she remembered and she found her body stilling under his touch. Her mind still thrummed with fear, every vessel in her body alive with the coiling tension. Then he started speaking.

"Kat, I don't know where you are right now, but you have to listen to me. You're in Bobby's house, and you are safe."

She didn't know who Bobby was. She had never been to his house and she was _never _safe. She wasn't allowed to. Any sense of security, be it false or not, was purposefully ripped from her every time she attained it. But the voice was firm and warm and held no note of the high nasal tones Alistar spoke with. The voice sounded like he was in pain. Kat didn't like other people to be in pain. It was her job to hurt.

She tried to follow the voice, but her own mind made it dark and blurry. Then she realized she was crying. She scrunched her eyes shut only long enough to confirm that her hell lived behind her lids. She opened them quickly, searching for a way to salvation. That was when she realized that smell around her wasn't of blood and metal and flames, but of old books, motor oil, gunpowder, and leather. Her eyes snapped to his. The deep pools of green that were hazy from his own unshed tears. He was afraid for her.

Dean kept his hands firm. One on her shoulder and the other on her cheek. She had met his eyes and showed recognition. He was still debating whether or not to let go ,when she threw her frail arms around him and cried out in relief. She wasn't going back there. She would be okay.

"Shh, I got you. It's okay. I got you." Dean repeated this more times than he could count as his arms trapped her firmly against him, where he knew she was safe. She looked up at Sam and Bobby from behind her lashes and smiled at them. They exhaled as they saw she was alright. Bobby rolled himself closer and laid a rough hand on her shoulder.

"Reminds me of the first night," he said. She nodded slowly. "If you had had gun you would have shot yourself in a second."

"I never knew a mid could be such a scary place," she whispered.

"Are you sure you're alright? It looked like you didn't know we were even here," Sam spoke up, coming towards her. Dean still had her encased in his arms, and Sam wanted to hold her. He wanted to feel she was okay.

"She couldn't," Bobby explained for her. "You go through what she has…sometimes her subconscious thinks it's still there. Tricks her mind into thinking it's real. It's hell to battle your own mind."

Kat remained quiet and only nodded in confirmation.

"Last time she stayed like that until the sun came up. What ever you did, Dean, you keep on doing it," Bobby told the green-eyed hunter. He had been elated to hear that she was sleeping the whole night through because of him, and it was obvious that he had just pulled her out of a place he could never begin to walk. Kat's eyes drooped and Dean helped her stand. His hands felt the thick scars across her skin and he grimaced at them. She didn't deserve this.

Sam looked unsure of himself, but opened his arms slightly. Kat didn't hesitating in falling into them. He held her the way she imagined a big brother would, after his little sister just had her heart broken. His body offering her warmth and security and understanding. She snuggled into the over-sized teddy bear that was Sam and sighed.

Sam breathed heavily as he let a few tears fall. He had been afraid for her. Afraid that he would loose this woman who had become his little sister and his best friend. She let him lead her back to the couch and let his soft voice calm her down.

"Don't scare me like that again. You're the only thing that keeps me sane around that idiot I call my brother and I need you to keep him in line. It's only three in the morning, I could sit here and talk to you some more, or you can stop lying to yourself and admit that you need that idiot to sleep." He raised an eyebrow at her and she nodded. Sam had a gentle voice. The kind that brought out your old scars and made them more manageable. She felt her paranoia leaving her until she could see the entire room clearly for what it was. Her home.

She stood on shaky legs and looked at Bobby. "I have to sleep in the same bed as Dean. It keeps the nightmares away." Dean nodded hurriedly. He wanted to sleep. He had been glad that it was him who brought her back. And he was even more glad that his brother had handled the wreck left behind. Crying people scared him. Sam was always good at making them calm down. Dean usually antagonized their problems or sat awkwardly until they were done.

"Do what ever you need to, kid. Just get some sleep," the old hunter wheeled himself out of the room. They all knew he wasn't happy. Kat was as much his daughter as Dean was his son, but he had a fierce protectiveness of her. He was afraid of her getting hurt. He knew they were not together, but he was still afraid. But at night he would let them sleep. Anyway they could.

Sam dropped heavily onto the couch. He could pull out another cot, but the couch was more comfortable. He watched in satisfaction as they two made their way upstairs.

Dean dropped back into the sheets heavily. "Just so you know, I haven't slept at all."

"You need me as much as I need you?"

"Appears so," he admitted. She didn't answer, just snuggled into him and closed her eyes. He was glad she hadn't pushed it. He felt emasculated by just bringing it up, but he decided she deserved to know what she had done to him. He breathed out and wrapped his arms around her. If someone had told him a year ago that he'd be snuggling with a beautiful woman every night and not getting' any, he would have laughed, then punched them. He wasn't sure what he'd gotten himself into, and at the moment, he was too tired to care.


	44. Chapter 44

**Okie Dokie, so here is another chapter! Please please review, it means a lot to me when you do! And, I finally have my ending decided and I'm toying with beginnings too. Of course, this is going to go on for quite a while longer, so don't get too freaked out. I love you guys!**

Dean woke late the next day, realizing that his arms were empty and the bed was cooler. He stumbled to the shower and let the warm water wake him up. He meandered down stairs and found Sam and Bobby browsing through books and Sam's laptop. He glanced at the time and realized that he had slept in until ten. Did that mean he missed breakfast?

"Kat left you a plate in the fridge," Sam informed him without looking up.

"Where is she?" Dean asked as he stuffed his mouth with sausage.

"Outside," Bobby said. Dean nodded and took his plate out onto the deck. It was a clear day, though Dean wasn't sure exactly what day it was, and the winter chill was just beginning to wear off. He looked out and saw his impala. He took a moment to admire his car and decided that he would work on it a bit today. His car had more miles than the average and needed a tune up.

He set his empty plate down and walked out further into the salvage yard. He saw her quickly. Over-sized jeans with splatter bleach patterns and huge holes exposing her scarred knees. They and the pair of worn and scuffed combat boots were all that was visible of her. The rest was underneath Bobby's 1971 Chevelle. Dean stopped to watch her, her legs bending and stretching out at she worked. Suddenly her pale hand stuck out from underneath the car and began feeling around for something.

"Batman, I know you're there, hand me that line wrench to the left of you," her muffled voice said. He smiled to himself and placed it in her hand. "Gonna work on the impala?"

"Yup."

"Need help?"

"Do you?"

"I'm just…about…Done," she said rolling out. She allowed Dean to pull her off of the skate board she was laying on and tightened her pony tail. She was in a tight black T-shirt and her arms and face were smeared with grease stains. If he was being honest, he would admit to himself that it was hot. She cracked her neck and jumped onto the skate board. Dean stood back as she rolled herself across the lot. She twisted her hips and brought it to a stop just in front of her Harley. "I haven't forgotten you baby."

Dean smirked to himself as she started tuning her bike. He moved to his car, and ran his fingers over the hood. "She can't top you, don't worry," he told his baby, before popping the hood and getting to work. Every now and then one would call out for a tool to the other and have it tossed to them, but other than that and their occasional comment to their vehicles, they were quiet.

They could have talked about a lot of things. Like her nightmare or their dependency on one another to sleep. Or their hunt, the apocalypse, or hell, even the weather. But instead they worked in a comfortable silence on their baby's and enjoyed the cool air. She stood up and stretched a while later, feeling her scars twinge and pull as she did.

"Want help?"

Dean did not trust anyone with his car. But this girl wasn't anyone and she had just shown that she could work. He waved her over and she helped him work on his transmission.

"This is one beautiful car," she whispered, almost to herself. "You got a good man takin' car of you, hun," she said stroking the car affectionately. Dean smiled to himself. Any girl who appreciated his car as much as he did, was okay on his list.

"And your bike has a good woman," he said.

"Do…" she paused thinking hard. "Do you want to ride?"

Dean looked up sharply, his eyes wide. "Are you serious?"

She nodded and smiled hesitantly. "Is that a yes?"

"No. It's a Hell Yes!" Dean closed the hood of the impala and turned his grease streaked face towards her. He already had the biker boots and the badass attitude. All he needed was to learn how to ride. She curled a finger at him, signaling for him to follow.

She picked up her helmet, twirling it in her fingers before tossing it to Dean.

"You don't need one?" he asked, about to put the red and black helmet on.

"You're more likely to get hurt than me," she shrugged. He put it on as she through a leg over her bike, sitting comfortable on the black leather. Dean tilted his head. "Brace yourself on my shoulder, one leg over, arms around my middle," she instructed. He did as she said, and jumped slightly as she brushed away the kickstand and revved the engine. Over the roar of the bike, she began explaining the mechanics of riding and the best way to stay upright. "Controls are all in the handlebars. There is a foot brake, but you don't use that one when you're just stopping. Hand brake only. Got that?"

"Got it."

"Alright, I'll let you see what she can do and then you can go."

"Me drive?" Dean was borderline panicked at the thought.

"You let me drive yours," she shrugged before letting her bike tear out of the salvage yard, hearing Dean's shout as she went.

"Jesus Christ! A little warning next time!"

"Shut up and hold on, Batman!" She gunned it, speeding down the highway and making Dean's grip vice-like. She laughed loudly as her long hair whipped around her, barely contained in her pony tail.

"You're crazy!" He shouted.

"You ain't seen nothin' yet!" She shouted back. She moved one had onto Dean's to check his grip before jerking back quickly into a wheelie, her laugh carefree and exhilarated. She felt like she was flying. The air was rushing past her and her face was numb. But her eyes didn't water and she saw everything with the same startling clarity she saw everything. The front wheel touched back down and lifted her hands from the wheel, keeping her body centered carefully.

"What the fuck? Are you trying to get us killed?"

But she couldn't hear him, she was busy flying. When she felt the seat shift from between her legs she grabbed the handle bars and slowed down. She pulled over to the dirt beside the road and easily lifted herself off.

"Your legs are going to be stiff as hell with how tightly you were holding on. One foot on the ground, when you lift the other be sure it doesn't touch the bike," she instructed. He did as she commanded and stood uneasily. "No get back on. In the front."

He sighed and did as she said. She moved behind him and locked her arms around his middle. He struggled to focus on her soft voice as she instructed him on how to ride. Her arms were warm and cool and they made his stomach feel odd. He didn't like it, but he did. He pushed that up the fact that her arms were keeping him balanced. He eased the bike back onto the road and gunned the engine. He used his training to keep his hands steady, and kept his eyes firmly on the road. The asphalt was closer to him than it was when he was in the impala and he had to work not to be distracted by it. He saw the shinier flecks of cement catch the light blur into nothing beneath him.

Kat's arms kept him steady and he exhaled a breathy laugh. This was better than flying. Flying scared the crap out of him, this freed him. It was better than getting drunk or high or anything. It was like breathing after almost drowning. He wished he had brought his leather jacket. It would only add to the badass look and feel he had. This was a thousand times better than waking up in the middle of the night to Kat screaming.

Now that it was in his head, it wouldn't go away. He remembered the frailty of her body, and how little she weighed. He remembered the thick to thin scars that covered her smooth cream-colored legs and shoulders. He remembered the terrified glint in her eyes and it made him want to go back in time and kill Alistar himself. He wanted to tear that bastard limb from limb to give him just a glimpse of the hell he had put others through.

Those were not healthy feelings to have and he was doing something anyway. But the thought that she hadn't just been abused…but used, was nagging at his head. She had said it was just some guy in high school. But she hadn't gone to high school. He read people for a non-paid living. He should have caught her hesitation. She had been raped by this monster and he couldn't do anything about it. He blinked and focused on the road as he pulled into Bobby's and cut the engine, skidding slightly to a stop.

"That…was amazing. Thank you," he said sincerely. "Even though you did almost kill us."

"You're such a pansy," she teased, stepping off the bike and holding her hands out for the helmet. He pulled it off and shook out his short hair for effect. "Feel sexy?" She asked sarcastically.

"Always." She giggled at him and they walked back inside.


	45. Chapter 45

**Aaaand another one! Next chapter will be….dumdumdum CHUCK. Be excited. I am.**

"Did you kill him?" Bobby's voice sounded from the living room.

"Tried. Boy's like a roach. Just won't die!" Kat shouted back. She could hear Sam's loud laughter as they entered the room.

"Shut up, Samantha," Dean called.

"Oh, real mature," Sam said sarcastically. "Deanna."

"That's a good one. Remind me to use that one," Kat said, flopping down on the couch.

"Yeah yeah, yuck it up," Dean replied. She laughed again and picked up a book at random.

"Do we have a plan for the next hunt?" She asked, getting back to work.

"We don't have any movement on other horsemen yet and Cas isn't giving us any leads right now. So, we can either sit and twiddle our thumbs, or we can go visit Chuck for more intel," Sam said.

" I wanna meet Chuck!" Kat said immediately.

"Okay, okay, we'll go see Chuck," Dean said chuckling at her exuberance.

"Yes!" She said happily. "Are you sure you don't wanna go Bobby?"

"Positive."

"Suit yourself." She jumped up and rushed to the kitchen, to wash off her grease stained skin.

"Umm, why is she so…happy?" Sam asked, remembering her frightened eyes and panicked breathing.

"She goes through extra effort after making people worry for her," Bobby replied.

"Why would she do that?" Dean asked.

"Tryin' to prove that she's okay." Dean stood up then, and followed her to the kitchen, because he pretended too. He found her, grease free, beginning to cook dinner while listening to the radio.

"Do you remember when we used to dance?

And incidents arose from circumstance

One thing led to another, we were young,

And we would sing together songs unsung," She sang happily to the song, swaying as she breaded chicken. Dean laughed and joined her at the counter.

"It was the heat of the moment,

Tellin' me what my heart meant.

The Heat of the moment shown in your eyes," he sang along with her. He knew his voice was no where near as good as hers, but he sang anyway. She flicked him with powder and giggled.

"I love this song," He said happily. "Sammy never lets me listen to it."

"Why not? Asia's awesome!"

"Long story short, he's heard it too many times," Dean said laughing to himself. He sighed again and turned down the music to look at her.

"That's sad." He watched her work and brushed his fingers on her shoulder. "Yea, Batman?"

"Are you okay? Really okay?" he asked.

"Why would you ask that?"

"Because I've had to pretend too, remember?" He asked, pulling out the folded drawing she did of him. He didn't know why, but he kept it folded neatly in every pair of jeans he wore. She looked at it steadily and then back up at Dean.

"No…I'm not." She breathed deeply. "I've always had those nightmares. But you, Dean…you take them away," she said looking at him carefully. "And then I'm alone for a night…one night…and I relive the worst of it," she said slowly. "I hate relying on you, Dean. I hate relying on anyone. I hate needing you to remain sane…but I do." Her eyes were tearing up and she wiped under them, smearing flower on her pale skin. Dean wrapped his arms around her and ran his fingers through her hair.

"I hate it too. You're the only way I get any sleep. When you're gone I either don't or I relive hell. I know…that you hate it. But it's just the way we have to do this," he tried to console her. She sniffed loudly and he knew he wasn't helping. "Look. I respect you enough to tell you that I like sleeping next to you. And that I like holding you. And that I feel like a pansy telling you all that. My point is, I promise not to hurt you…or screw you over. I need you to sleep too," he said, feeling like a chick for being that honest. Kat shifted in his arms and he was afraid she would push him away. Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck, locking him in place.

"I trust you, Dean…I believe you," she said in a hesitant voice. He kissed the top of her head and smiled happily. At least his brief chick-flick moment had given results. "You know… for two people who don't like sharing and caring moments, we certainly land in a lot of them," she said, her voice muffled by his chest. He laughed and agreed, before disentangling her from his body and turning back up the radio.

"Heat of the moment,

Heat of the moment," He sang, pointing at Kat and nodding his head. She laughed and sang along to the last refrain before the song faded off to a commercial. She finished frying the chicken and started on the mashed potatoes.

"Do you need help?" He asked. She glanced at him, smirking.

"I haven't forgotten the first time," she said teasingly. "Just set the table." He did as she said and fiddled with his fingers when he was done. She noticed him and turned the radio up higher. 'Sympathy for the Devil' came on and the both of them laughed at the irony. Dean pulled on her arm as she put a lid on the potatoes. She allowed her self to twirl towards him and land in his arms.

"Please allow me to introduce myself,

I'm a man of wealth and taste," Dean started, swaying her sideways and twirling her around.

"I've been around for a long long year,

Stole many a mans soul and faith," Kat took up her lines. She leaned back and kicked her leg up, allowing Dean to spin her on her combat boot. They took turns with lines, swaying and turning. "I shouted out, who killed the Kennedys?

When after all,

It was you and me!" She sang louder, causing Sam and Bobby to check on them. They watched in something close to awe as she moved with and around Dean, allowing her voice to mingle with his.

"Let me please introduce myself,

I'm a man of wealth and taste!

And I lay traps for troubadours,

Who get killed before they reach Bombay!

Pleased to meet you,

Hope you guess my name!" Bobby and Sam were clapping along as the flower-covered girl and the grease-stained man danced in the cramped kitchen. Sam picked up Dean's phone as it rang and listened to the voice on the line. He laughed loudly, shaking his head as he hung up.

"What?" Bobby asked him.

"Cas doesn't like this song," he said, still chuckling. The song winded down and Kat let go of Dean, drifting to check her food. Dean grabbed a beer from the fridge and grabbed a chair.

"Good show," Sam teased.

"Don't be jealous of my moves gigantor," he quipped back. Sam blanched and helped Kat bring the food over, handing her a cold beer. They ate happily, all talking loudly and joking, as if last night had never happened, which was the point. Afterwards they played poker until the late hours, Kat either winning or letting the others win. By the end of the night, she'd won another five hundred.

"Jesus, is there anything you cant do?" Dean asked as he watched her pulled the pot towards herself. She thought seriously for a moment.

"Play pool," she finally responded. It wasn't that she was horrible, it was that she was better at poker.

"Good, we'll play that next time we go to the Roadhouse," he decided. Pool was his forte, and he loved the game as much as he loved the money it provided him with.

"Mmk," she said, taking a shot of whiskey and blinking sleepily.

"Alright, bed time," Bobby commanded, wheeling himself closer to her. She kissed his cheek and hugged him.

"Not tired," she mumbled. Dean laughed at her and stood too.

"C'mon Kit-Kat, got a long drive ahead of us," he reminded her, pushing her towards the stairs. "Night, Sasquatch!"

"Night, Deanna!"

"Bitch!"

"Jerk!"

Kat giggled and looked back at Sam and hugged him, reaching up to kiss his cheek too. "Night, Prettyboy."

"Night Kitty," he said, his cheeks still red. She followed Dean up the stairs and immediately stripped to her girl boxers and her tank top and collapsed in the bed. Dean shook his head and got in in only his boxers. She cuddled to him immediately, feeling his heartbeat with her fingers.

"Goodnight, Dean," she whispered.

"Goodnight, Kat." She shifted and brushed her lips against his cheek, feeling the barely-there stubble beneath her soft mouth. When she pulled away, both felt like they were on fire, like energy was burning its way through their veins.

"Thank you," she whispered. Dean didn't know what she meant, and figured it would be best if he didn't say anything. So he closed his eyes and they both fell asleep together.


	46. Chapter 46

**Last one for today, I couldn't help it…there's a cliffhanger. I want guesses! What happened? What is she seeing? DUMDUMDUM! REVIEW. **

Dean was shaken awake the next morning by small warm hands. He blearily opened his green eyes and met excited blue ones.

"Wake up! Wake up! I wanna see Chuck!" she said. He pulled himself up and noticed how she looked away from his bare chest. He didn't say anything, though his instincts were telling him to call her on it. Instead he tilted his head and eyed her.

"Why the hell are you so excited?"

"Cause I get to meet a prophet! Not just any prophet! The prophet that wrote my favorite series! Oh, I'm sooo happy!" she said, practically jumping up and down. "Do you think he knows who I am? Do you think he knows we're coming? Do you think he knows-" Dean clamped a hand over her mouth and saw that she was fully dressed in grey skinny jeans and Han Solo shirt she had cut out the shoulders of. Her hair was down and straight and she only had on a thin ring of black eyeliner.

"Shh. You'll find out when we get there," he said slowly. He let his hand fall and got out of bed, stretching his body and heading for the shower. He noticed that she had already finished packing. "What time is it?"

"Eight. I wanted to leave earlier, but you looked really tired," she said, smiling. He yawned and nodded.

"Thank you for controlling yourself," he said before going into the bathroom and closing the door. Kat bounced down the stairs, her hair flying behind her. She plopped onto the couch and slipped on her old and ratty converse. They were black high-tops with every available surface doodled on or written on. The white parts in black sharpie and the black with a silver one. She admired them for a moment, before grabbing her pocket knife and putting her leg up to see the souls of the shoes. She scratched in two sets of initials in them, next to the others. Underneath all of those was the word: family.

B.S. (Bobby Singer)

J.W. (John Winchester)

J. (Jaime)

A.M. (Ash Miles)

D.W. (Dean Winchester)

S.W. (Sam Winchester)

She had a small family, but they were the people she cared about. She thought that after what the boys had witnessed the other night, they deserved to be counted among them. Bobby wheeled himself into the living room as she finished.

"It official?"

"Yup." She smiled and slipped the knife back into her ankle holster. She stood and cracked her back.

"Kit-Kat?" Bobby asked hesitantly.

"Yea?"

"I know you asked me not to…but I've been lookin' into what happened." She knew he was referring to the glowing eyes and spine shifting. That hadn't happened again, though the pain still flared every time Dean touched her, it had lessened with each time. "There are only four or five explanations, and none of them fit."

"Like what?"

"Mermaids do that when they are in contact with water, and obviously you're not a mermaid. Another one says that human hosts react that way when a Pagan God possesses them, and it's obvious you don't have one of them in you. The other's are all types of half-breeds that react that way when they become their supernatural other half."

"I would look into those more," she said quietly. "I went to my parents graves and the police gave me this picture," she took it from her pocket and showed it to Bobby. "that guy is my father. Not the one in the grave."

"But, your twin?"

"I don't know about Jaime," she said. "But hey, I found out I'm French! My last name is DeLaroux."

"Pretty," Bobby whispered as he looked at the picture carefully. "I'll look into it, but you gotta understand, it won't change anything. You're still you. The bat-shit crazy youngster that's practically my daughter," he said quietly. She sniffed and hugged him tightly.

"What would I do with out you?"

"Crash and burn." She giggled and kissed his cheek.

"Want some coffee?" She asked, rubbing her eyes carefully, to not smear her makeup, and walking to the kitchen. He nodded and she poured three cups. Sam was already drinking his blonde coffee while finishing his packing. She gave Bobby his and counted to three before holding out the second. Dean tromped into the room, freshly showered and shaved, and grabbed his cup, nodding a thanks. "We set?"

"Yup. Sammy's loading up the car and then we'll head out." He sipped his coffee and sighed. "We better get going." He shook Bobby's hand and left. Kat hugged Bobby one more time and said goodbye, before finishing her coffee and following Dean outside. She slipped into the back of the car and settled in for a long drive.

They arrived at the ram-shackled house in record time and Kat looked on with trepidation. Something told her that what was beyond the door was more than just a prophet, but she followed the boys to the doorstep anyway. She kept her head down as they knocked and waited for the door to open. When it did she looked up hesitantly.

"Chuck! You're dressed!" Sam exclaimed as Chuck ushered them inside, wearing jeans and a pressed shirt.

"Of course I am! Kat's here, I had to look decent."

"You don't look like an alcoholic," Kat said, as he greeted Sam and Dean.

"Oh, I am. The visions give me headaches, and liquor gets rid of them," he said shrugging. He finally turned his eyes to her, they were warm and brown and Kat froze when she met them.

"Oh my God!"


	47. Chapter 47

**Okie Dokie, here are some new chapters for ya. Please please please review! They make me really happy. Anyway. Here we go!**

Kat uttered it before she knew what was happening. "Sam! Dean!" They looked at her oddly. "Go wait in the car. I have to talk to Chuck." Dean was about to protest, but her face was awed and excited, so he and Sam left her there. "Ohmygod, Ohmygod, Ohmygod!"

"What is it Kat?" Chuck asked looking at her carefully. She looked into his eyes again, and felt she was staring into the sun. A never ending, all-consuming light that made her want to kneel before the slight man. He was only slightly taller than her and she felt dwarfed by him.

"You…you…you're God!" She whispered. Chuck's eyes widened and he ran a hand through his hair.

"Damn it."

"Holy shit! How is this even possible?" She ranted, swiping a hand through her own hair and looking all around her.

"Nobody's supposed to know!" he whispered.

"That what? You're letting the world go to shit?" She paused. "Oh God…you're letting the apocalypse happen! What kind of god are you?"

"Calm down!" He shouted, his voice both soft and commanding.

"Okay," she squeaked, sitting on the couch. "Explain."

"It has to happen this way. I've seen it. I can't interfere."

"Why the hell not?"

"Look. I'm not the only God in the world. I'm not the most powerful to ever live. I created this mess, but I cannot solve it. I'm putting my faith in humanity."

"Why?"

"Because…the angels have to see what you can do," he said softly. "My way of helping push you along is by being a prophet. And no one else can know."

"I'm not allowed to tell Dean and Sam that you're God?"

"No."

She looked deeply into his eyes, matching his stare. She nodded her understanding, but bit her lip as another question rose to her mind. "Why did it happen to me?"

He sighed and touched her cheek softly. "I did not want it to. What you went through is more than I could ever ask of my children, but you came out stronger. The storm is gonna hit us all soon, and Sam and Dean will need you," he said. She nodded and looked at him steadily.

"Who is my father?"

Chuck looked as if he might actually tell her, but instead, he sighed. "You'll know soon." Kat sighed, no one was ever going to give her a straight answer. She looked back up at the bearded man.

"And Chuck?"

"Yes?"

"You are exactly what I thought you'd look like," she said brightly.

"You thought God would look like this?" He asked skeptically.

"Yea sure! Right down to the white shirt. I always thought the Santa-God was a little over rated." Chuck laughed loudly at her as she smiled at him.

"You are an odd one," he said fondly.

"Hey, I've been wondering…do you really hate gay people?" Kat asked, pulling a question at random.

"No! That's a total lie," he said, looking bitter about the whole thing. "I'm surprised you haven't asked yet."

"Ask what?" She tilted her head to the side in confusion.

"Why you're here," Chuck said as if it was obvious.

"For your amusement, right?" she asked cheekily. Chuck laughed again and patted her back. "Where do we go now?"

"Kansas. Castiel will give the information later tonight." She nodded and shook his hand, then walked outside. Dean watched her exit the house, looking visibly shaken.

"What do we know?" He asked, trying to shake off his worry for her.

"He said Kansas, and that Castiel will give you info tonight," she said shrugging.

"What did you talk about?" Sam asked.

"A lot."

"Are you alright?" Dean asked, driving them to a motel.

"I have no idea," she answered. When they arrived at the motel, she collapsed on the bed. "Call Castiel." Dean pulled out his phone and pressed the speed dial.

"Cas?" Kat heard the flutter of wings and looked up to see a scruffy man in a trench coat. He had a shock of black hair and bright blue eyes. She studied him closely, watching his large black wings fold themselves to fit in the small room.

"Yes Dean?" His voice was gruff and soft at the same time.

"Got a case for us?"

"Yes. It seems that people have been killing themselves in extremely odd ways, including one couple that ate each other. I am not sure what to make of it," he admitted awkwardly. His eyes kept shifting to Kat who was watching him. "Yes?" He asked finally, growing uncomfortable with her eyes on him.

"Thank you for healing me," she said softly.

"It was my job."

"Thank you anyway." Castiel paused and tilted his head.

"You are welcome."

"Alright, we'll look into it, stop by the morgue and give you a call when we find something," Sam said.

Cas nodded and disappeared. "He's rather odd, isn't he?" Kat asked, still looking in the spot he had just been. She had been transfixed by the grace beneath his eyes. It was a strange pulsating silver light, not the gold you would usually expect.

"Oh yea," Dean confirmed. The drove until reaching their destination, and slept heavily.

They went through witness statements the next day and arrived back at the motel room with basically nothing.

"No EMF or sulfur so both ghost and demonic possession are probably out," Kat said crashing onto the bed.

"Damn. That's where I had my money." Dean said.

"That's all we can do for tonight. So yea. I'm gonna go through some files, you can get going Dean." Sam said.

"Sorry?"

"Go ahead. Unleash the kraken. See you tomorrow morning." Sam said barely looking up from his laptop.

"Where am I going?"

"Dean, it's Valentines Day, you're favorite holiday, remember? What do you always call it? Unattached drifters Christmas?"

Kat looked up, confused.

"I guess I'm not really feelin' it this year," he said glancing casually at Kat. Sam looked at him in disbelief and worry on his features.

"What's Valentines day?" Kat asked out of the blue.

Sam and Dean stared at her in shock.

"You don't know what Valentines Day is?" Sam asked.

"No. John told me the only holiday in February was Hallmark Day," she said. Dean and Sam laughed.

"That _is_ Valentines," Sam said. "It's a day for couples."

"That sounds stupid. Hallmark Day was better," she huffed, her cheeks red.

Sam laughed loudly and smiled at her embarrassed face. She stuck her tongue out at him and got under the covers. Dean glared at Sam and stripped down to his boxers. He got closer to her and spoke to both of them.

"We'll go by the morgue tomorrow."

Kat and Sam agreed and they went to sleep.


	48. Chapter 48

**Alright, this chapter is sticking very close to cannon, which I probably won't do again because it takes a long friggin' time and a lot of research. So, you better appreciate this. There isn't a whole lot of Kat, but I'll make up for it later. Love you!**

The next morning they were in black suits, in Kat's case a black skirt and white blouse, and went to the morgue.

"Hello," Kat started, smiling nicely at the young man behind the desk. She flashed a badge. "I'm Dr. Ford with the Center for Disease Control, and these are Agents Hamill and Hetfeild. We're here about the unusual deaths these past few weeks. Do you mind if we take a look in the morgue?" She asked sweetly, giving him a flirtatious smile. The kid was practically tripping over himself to give them passes, instructing them on where to go. "Thank you so much."

"Layin' it on thick there?" Dean asked sarcastically. She winked. "Dr. Ford by the way?

"Harrison Ford," she said smiling. "I have a thing for Han Solo."

"And mine?" Sam asked in confusion.

"James Hetfeild is the lead singer of Metallica. Dean's was Mark Hamill, who played Luke Skywalker," she listed, smiling at the boys as she swiped the key card and lead the way to the morgue.

"Marry me," Dean whispered.

"You are not Han Solo," she said, smirking. Sam and Dean got to work bringing out the different organs from the cold-boxes. They sat to examine them and Dean chuckled, passing the heart to Sam.

"Hey, be my Valentine?" he asked, smirking. Sam blanched and passed it to Kat. She looked at it carefully.

"Hey, guys?" They looked up. "Both of these hearts have identical markings…oh no…they're Enochian," she said. Dean got up and pulled up his cell phone.

"Hey Cas, we got something," he started listing the address then stopped short as he became face to face with Castiel.

"I'm there now," he said gruffly.

"Yea, I see that."

"I'm…going to hang up now," he said, his eyes wide.

"That's a good idea," Dean said awkwardly. Both men hung up and went to look at the hearts, where Kat and Sam were chuckling lightly to themselves.

"You are right, Katherine, these are Enochian," he said.

"You can call me Kat, you know," she said quietly.

"Of course. Anyway, this is a mark of union," he looked up with wide eyes.

"What? What does that mean?" Dean asked.

"The mark is a trademark. Your people call them Cupids. They're actually angels of a low class. Technically it's a cherub, third class."

"Cherub?" Dean asked.

"Yes, they're all over the world. There are dozens of them."

"You mean the little flying fat kid in diapers?" Dean asked sarcasatically.

"They're not incontinent."

"What exactly are you saying?" Sam asked.

"A Cupid has gone rouge and we have to stop it! Before he kills again," Cas said forcefully.

Kat leaned back into the booth and looked forlornly at the burger in front of her. She knew she should eat, but she wasn't all that hungry. She took a bite anyway and watched as Dean seemed to go through the same thing in his head, only deciding to push it away.

"You're not hungry?" Sam asked skeptically. Dean rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Why are we here?" he asked instead.

"This is the type of place that Cupids are drawn to," Cas responded, looking around the restaurant at the many couples and sad singles. "Are you going to finish that?" He asked Dean. He slid the burger over with an odd look on his face and Cas grabbed it. Suddenly a wind blew through and Kat shivered. Other couples made eye contact and lip locked, the entire restaurant consumed by passion.

"He's here," Cas said. "Meet me in the back." He disappeared and the three hunters went to the back room. Kat watched Cas raise his hand and speak in his own language, she heard the baritone voice and the power behind it. "Zoda kama mahrana. Manifest yourself."

"Where is he?" Dean asked. Kat opened her mouth, but someone beat her to it.

"Right here!" he said, wrapping a pair of naked arms around Dean's stomach. Kat sucked in a breath at the sight of the large naked man, hugging Dean from behind.

"Help!" Dean shouted, gasping for breath. The Cupid let him go.

"You!" He said, pointing at Cas. Cas stayed absolutely still as the Cupid hugged him, lifting him off the ground. He then repeated the process on Sam.

"Is this a fight? Are we in a fight?" Dean asked.

"It's their handshake," Cas answered.

"I don't like it!"

"No one likes it."

"And a beautiful woman!" Cupid said, crushing Kat into an embrace. She looked ready to start hyperventilating and exhaled loudly when he let her go. "What can I do for you?"

"Stop killing couples," Dean said flatly.

"We know, Cupid, couples you tagged have been killing themselves," Cas said. Kat watched Cupid's face fall and his eyes tear.

"What?"

Kat moved towards him as his back turned and he sniffed loudly. Dean tried to hold her back, but she shook him off.

"We're sorry. We didn't mean to hurt your feelings. We're just trying to figure out who killed those people," she said softly. Cupid turned and pulled her into a hug.

"Thank you! You are so nice!" He blubbered into her shoulder. She patted his back gently.

"What do you know about the deaths?"

"I just followed orders. Tagged the meant to be's and left. What happens after that has nothing to do with me," he said.

"Orders? What orders?" Dean asked.

"From heaven, of course!" He said brightly. He let go of Kat and looked at Dean.

"I don't get it. What does heaven care if Harry met Sally?"

"Well, they don't usually. There are some big ones though. Blood lines that have to continue, destinies to be fulfilled. Yours for instance. Oh yea, Mary and John Winchester were a big deal to match. Wasn't easy either. They hated each other at first. But well…they were meant to be," he said.

"Meant to be?" Dean sneered. "They're dead!"

"I'm sorry, but you two had to be born," he said quietly. Dean moved to hit him, but Kat caught his hand. Cupid disappeared in a gust of wind.

"Where did he go?"

"I think you offended him," Cas said. Dean sighed.

"Why didn't you let me punch him?" Dean demanded.

"Because it wasn't his fault!" She said glaring at him. He sighed and ran a hand over his face. "You need to get your head in the game, Dean. People are dying and it's our job to save them."

"I know. You're right," he admitted quietly.

"Good."

She looked at him steadily and walked with Sam back to the car.

"Are you alright?" She asked him. His jaw was set and his eyes never rested on anything,

"Yea…uh…I'm fine."

She stopped him next to the car and looked at him carefully. Sam tried to keep steady eye contact, but something was wrong with him. He was restless and fidgety. "No you're not."

"Uhh."

"Let me know if I can help," she said quietly. Her phone rang and she answered it quickly.

"Dr. Ford? You asked me to call you if I had any other weird deaths…well I have one," The coroners voice told her. She told him they'd be there in a few minutes and hung up.

"Let's roll," she said, getting into the car. Dean walked up and got in with out saying anything. Cas wasn't with him.

"Cas will meet us there, Sam, I need you to run anymore unusual deaths," Dean listed before letting Sam off at the motel. Kat climbed over and flopped into the passenger seat. "Are you alright?"

"Yea, I'm cool," Kat said, shrugging.

"No you're not," he said.

"I just…I have a bad feeling about this case," she whispered. "And I don't think Cas likes me."

"Oh he likes you…he just isn't very good with people," Dean said smiling to himself. She nodded slowly and settled in the seat. They went straight downstairs, catching up with Cas and meeting the coroner in the autopsy room.

Kat shielded her eyes to the sight of the corpses bulging stomach. "That's disgusting."

"This wasn't couple related…but this guy…well, he went on a Twinkie binge. Ate himself to death."

"What?" Dean asked.

"Yea. He had a surgery on his stomach…there's a band around his stomach that he blew out and then he just kept eating, shoved the food down with a toilet brush until it exploded inside of him."

Cas's eyes grew wide with understanding and he left the room. Dean and Kat looked over the body and went back to the motel. Sam was there with a briefcase and a clear headache.

"I checked and saw that there have been eight suicides and nineteen OD's. And there's also this thing…" He pulled out a black briefcase. "There was a demon outside of the hospital. I cut him, but he got away. Got this though."

"Let's open it," Dean said.

"What's the worst that could happen," Sam said shrugging. Kat stood closer to the door, not trusting the slick leather case. The boys bent over the locks and opened it. A blinding white light filled the room, emanating from the case and fizzling out quickly.

"What the hell was that?" Dean asked.

"A human soul," Cas said. He appeared with a White Castle bag in one hand and a burger in the other. He took a bite out of it and sighed.

"I think I know what this thing is," he said around a mouthful of burger.

"When did you start eating?" Dean asked.

"My hunger is actually a clue. It's Famine."

"The horsemen?"

"Yes. He has infected the town."

"But I thought that was like food hungry. You know…famine," Dean said.

"People are hungry for different things, Dean," Kat said sitting down. "He feeding off of the souls of the victims?"

"Exactly," he said. He bit another piece.

"So what? People are eating themselves to death and an angel suddenly wants burgers?" Dean asked.

"Not me…my vessel, Jimmy. He enjoys red meat," he said around more beef.

"Sam? Are you alright?" Kat asked suddenly. Sam looked at her with wide eyes.

"Uhuh…yes?"

"No. you're not. What is your hunger?" she asked, watching him closely. Dean's eyes widened and he walked towards him.

"Sam…"

"I'm okay, Dean."

"No…you want it…don't you? The demon blood?" Dean asked. Kat remembered it form her reading, but never brought it up for fear of upsetting him. Sam turned his panicked eyes on her.

"I already knew, Sam." He looked at her with heartbroken eyes. "I don't judge you on it." She could tell she wasn't getting through. She pushed Dean out of the way and reached up to hold his head in her hands. "You made a mistake. You know you did and we know you did. But you fought to make it right. As long as you fight it, no one….none of us who care about you, will think any less of you. Do you understand me?"

He nodded slowly and crushed her into a hug. "Thank you, Kat."

"It's what I live for," she whispered.

"What do we do?" Dean asked.

"Track down Famine and take him out," Cas said as he ate another burger.

"Sounds like a plan that I can roll with," Dean said. "What are you, the Hamburgler?"

"I've developed a taste for ground beef," Cas said eyeing the empty bag sadly.

"Well, have you tried to stop it?" Dean asked.

"I'm an angel, I can stop anytime I want," Cas said assuredly.

"Dean. Before you go…you're going to want to tie me down," Sam said quietly. Dean nodded and chained him to the pipe under the sink, locked the bathroom door and Cas pushed a wardrobe in front of it. Kat sighed and got in the back of the car, letting Cas sit in the front.

The angel unwrapped another burger and stuffed his mouth, "These make me…very happy."

"How many of those have you had?" Dean asked.

"Lost count. It's in the low hundreds," he said, taking another bite. "There is something I do not understand."

"Yea?"

"Neither you nor Katherine have shown any signs of hunger. I do not understand it," he said.

"Well…when I want beer, I drink it. When I want sex, I go get it. Same for a sandwich or a fight."

"I constantly remind myself that I'm lucky to be alive. I try not to want anything," Kat said.

"So you are well adjusted?" Kat shrugged and Dean laughed.

"No way. More like well fed,"

"There," Cas said, pointing to a man in a black suit getting into a black Escalade. They followed the car to a diner and parked outside.

"So remind me of the plan again?" Dean asked. Cas took another large bite and chewed, exhaling loudly.

"Uh… I go in and get the ring. Come back out," he said.

"Great plan," he said sarcastically as Cas disappeared. Dean and Kat sat quietly for about a minute.

"Alright this is taking too long," Dean said. Kat jumped out quickly, strapping her knife onto her forearm and rushing to Dean's side. "Ready?"

"Yea…as I'll ever be," she said getting into step with him and preparing herself for whatever lay beyond the door.


	49. Chapter 49

**Okay, this has been three separate uploads on one episode. Phew, I'm tired. Okay, there's some Kat at the end and after this I'm going back to how I previously wrote…my way. **

**Review, comments are welcome. Love you guys! Thanks for reading!**

Kat stepped inside carefully, looking like she would be sick at the smell of decaying flesh. She shivered at the sight of a man half-way in a fat fryer and looked at Dean.

"Cas? Cas?" He whispered. They moved into the seated part of the diner, where more people lay, all dead. Kat froze, but Dean ran to the angel in the trench coat. He was on the floor, stuffing his face with raw meat. He tried to get Cas's attention, but the angel was consumed by his hunger. Kat pulled out her knife and turned, slashing at the men in suits behind her.

"What the fuck is this? This isn't the Matrix, honey," she said rudely, eyeing their black business suits. The demons attacked, and she spun, kicking on his right temple and throwing the knife at the other. She looked back in time to see that two others had grabbed Dean. Then she saw him. A pale and sickly old man in an automated wheelchair. He looked to be barely breathing, with crooked yellow teeth and shriveled hands. It was absurd to be afraid of him, but she was. She could see the mass of unquenched hunger beneath his skin and the evil in his eyes.

She had been distracted long enough to be grabbed and dragged next to Dean, in front of Famine.

"Ah, the other Mr. Winchester…" Famine said in a hollow, raspy voice. He looked carefully at Dean who's eyes were hard.

"What did you do to him?" He asked, tilting his head towards Castiel.

"You sicced your dog on me, I simply threw him a steak," he said, shrugging.

"So this is your big trick? Makin' people go coocoo for cocoa puffs?" He demanded.

"Doesn't take much-hardly a push. Oh, America-all-you-can-eat, all the time. Consume, consume. A swarm of locusts in stretch pants. And yet, you're all still starving because hunger doesn't just come from the body, it also comes from the soul."

"Funny, doesn't seem to be coming from mine," Dean said. "Or her's," he indicated Kat. She had been silent, playing dead weight to the demons next to her. She was waiting for the opportune moment, and talking never helped her concentrate.

"Yes…I wondered about that," Famine said, his wheelchair approaching the two of them. He held out his hands and Kat thought they looked to be made of fiber glass, and that they would crumble if she touched them. When his hands came in contact with their chests, agony consumed them. Kat's head fell back and Dean's face twisted.

"Ah…your reasons are not so different. My little half breed, you will interest Lucifer with all you have inside of you. But you hunger for nothing. Do you wonder why?"

"I like to think its my strength of character," she said sarcastically.

"Oh! You do speak! No, my dear, it is simply because on the inside…you are not alive. You haven't been for a very long time. Tell me, how often do you force yourself to smile, or eat, or love? How often do you want to just give up?" He asked.

"Never. It isn't an option," she said forcefully.

"I see…a spark has been lit recently…but you don't know what it means…but I do!" he said cheekily. "And Dean…the other Mr. Winchester. Yes. I see. That's one deep, dark nothing you got there, Dean. Can't fill it, can you? Not with food or drink. Not even with sex.

"Oh, you're so full of crap," Dean said, laughing slightly.

"Oh, you can smirk and joke and lie to your brother, lie to yourself, but not to me! I can see inside you, Dean. I can see how broken you are, how defeated. You can't win, and you know it. But you just keep fighting. Just... keep going through the motions. You're not hungry, Dean, because inside, you're already...dead," he said looking deep into Dean's eyes.

"Let him go!" Sam shouted. His mouth was stained red and his chest was heaving. Kat took her moment and leaned back sharply, kicking her foot up and connecting it with a demon's jaw.

"Sammy, no!" Dean shouted, too focused on his brother to see anything else. Kat rolled away from the scrambling demons as Sam raised his hand and closed his eyes. Kat had never seen anything so terrifying. The raw power he showed as black smoke poured from their bodies made her want to crawl under a booth and hide. She could her Famine pushing him onwards as she picked up the knife that Cas had dropped. She moved to the side of Famine, out of his line of vision and prepared to take the ring.

"I'm not like you!" Sam shouted, letting the smoke settle on the ground. Famine laughed dryly and took them for himself, sucking all five demons. Sam raised his hand again.

"Sam…I'm a horsemen…your power doesn't work on me," he reminded.

"No…but it will work on them," he said before closing his eyes and clenching his fist. His nose bled with effort, but the demons were expanding inside of him, clawing their way out of Famine's stomach. Kat took the moment to cut the ring off of his finger and his screams filled the small diner. She couldn't help but watch as Famine slumped down in his wheel chair. Castiel and Dean were staring at Sam with wide eyes and Kat was looking on sadly. She kneeled in the center of the floor, and picked up the black-stoned ring, holding it out for Dean to take.

Kat was driving. Cas had taken Sam and Dean back to Bobby's so that Sam could get the demon blood out of his system. He hadn't been strong enough to take Kat and the car too, so she was driving. The windows were down and the cold night air was seeping into her skin and making it numb, but she didn't care. Her eyes were on the road, but she was only half-seeing it. Her thoughts were a mess, a whirlwind of half-finished thoughts and memories.

She didn't want to be dead inside. The thought made her shudder. Dead things should stay dead. And he had called her half-breed. She wasn't human. She was no better than the things she hunted. How could she be when she was so cold and calculating? It was only because of the Winchesters and Bobby that she'd been able to smile at all. And yes, a lot of them were fake, but a lot of them weren't and she thought that meant she had to be alive. She had felt death before. Been so close to the edge that she could imagine herself falling into it. But every time she was brought back, alive and kicking. What would be the point of all of that, if she didn't really feel anything.

He had said that there was a spark. She thought she felt that. At night, when Dean held her close and during the day when she could laugh with out it feeling forced. She knew that Dean liked holding her, but she doubted he knew the extent of how much she liked it. It reminded her of blurry memories where her family held her, and played with her, and she received love. After she was five, love had never been a part of the equation. Dean made her feel like the possibility was still there. That she could find someone who cared about her that way.

But Dean was broken too, so she wasn't sure. She had known, of course, that he was broken. She had seen it in his eyes and she had understood it. It scared her to think that another person was in as much pain as she was. She wanted to help him. Fix him so completely, that no one could ever break him again. Make him happy and strong. She just had no idea how.

She sighed loudly and turned up the radio, trying to let the music drown out her thoughts. She laughed loudly at the song and sang along for the hell of it.

"I'm on a highway to hell!"


	50. Chapter 50

**HIIIIIII! Did ya miss me? Only one update today…I think. Maybe. Depends on the reviews I get. More emotional stuff commin' your way! Prepare yourself. **

**It's short, I know, but it took a while to get it right, so love me anyway. Rate, review, and all that jazz. **

Dean couldn't handle his brother's screams. He could hear him through the cast-iron walls of Bobby's panic room and it was tearing him apart inside. Cas was trying to console him, but he couldn't really hear him. The man had done remarkably well with Kat, all things considered, and he was going to extra mile to help Sam, but right now…Dean wasn't thinking of any of that. He was thinking about that all-encompassing blackness that was inside of him.

"I…I need some air," he said, cutting of Cas's attempts to console him. The angel nodded and Dean walked out into the salvage yard. He knew Kat was driving his car back, and that she was dealing with much the same that he was. His head tipped back to look at the stars and the sliver of moon. "Please…just…please. I need some help!" He prayed.

He didn't pray often, but when he did all he felt was hopelessness and desperation. He couldn't keep on living like this. Like there was an empty hole inside of him. He needed to be alive again. The only time he felt alive was when he and Sam were bickering or when he was holding Kat. Thinking about it all made his head hurt.

He had already died once, and it wasn't something he wanted to repeat. But maybe this time he would go to heaven. Maybe he could rest peacefully and never worry again. He wondered if he could handle knowing that his giving up caused the apocalypse. But he wanted to. He wanted to throw in the towel and never have to deal with this life again.

He leaned heavily on a car and wiped at his eyes. He couldn't afford to think like this. Not when the world needed him. Not when Sam needed him.

What would his father think of him, if he knew he was about to give up? Dean thought of the disappointed look John gave him often enough. He had earned it many times, when he failed to finish a job correctly or lost track of Sam. His father would look at him and tell him that he had raised him better. And Dean knew he had.

He thought of his mother. He could still faintly picture her, blonde hair and soft green eyes, smiling. If she knew, he thought she would fold him into her arms and speak to him like a mother should. Encouraging him to go because it was the right thing to do, not the easy thing. She would tell him that she knew he could do it. That there was always strength in him and that she knew she could protect his brother.

He suddenly wondered what Kat could tell him. They were in practically the same situation anyway, and she could always see through him. He thought she would tell him what she thought when she got back, but figured it would be a healthy mix between his parents. He wasn't sure by what force she had been brought to them, but he was happy for it. She had impacted his life in a way he didn't completely understand. She could read him better than he himself could and she never offered anything false. She knew the life and the risks and was damn good at what she did and was a nice person too. He never thought that he would meet a woman who was so similar to himself.

She had the same taste in music, in cars, in humor, and the same fierce protectiveness over the ones she cared about. He knew she cared for him and Sam. The same way they cared for her. Sam had already fallen for her, treated her like the little sister he never had and respected her like a mother. Dean was sure he didn't feel that way, but he respected her and liked her much more than he thought he should. It was dangerous for him to feel anything, but he wanted too. She was making him rethink his life and his standing and, he thought, was making him a better man.

Famine had said there was nothing inside of him, but he didn't think that was true anymore. Her presence had ignited a spark that made him want to live, made him eager for tomorrow and happy to interact with people. He couldn't hide behind humor or sarcasm with her, and he liked it. She was his Hail Mary. His angel.


	51. Chapter 51

**Couldn't sleep so I'm updating again. Thank you very very very much to minaghostwolf , you just boosted a writers ego…good for you ****. Thanks to the readers and stuff and yes…there's more chick-flick stuff in this one, but I'm gonna lighten it up a bit next chapter…gotta give em a break sometime. Love and Rockets (oooOOOooo rockets….) –Han (Ryah, I hope you read this) **

He didn't go inside. Instead he waited in the dark, with a beer and a pensive look. He was reclining on an old van, staring up at the stars and watching first light break over the salvage yard.

The sky looked purple in the east and he figured it was only about five in the morning. He hadn't slept at all. He looked behind him as his car rolled into the lot. He watched it carefully, making sure it was in the same pristine condition he left it in. He didn't move from his spot, but watched as Kat laid her head against the steering wheel and sighed deeply. She looked up and met his eyes, both pairs were red. She got out of his car, and walked slowly towards him. He jumped down then, and waited for her to reach him.

Kat stood in front of him and held out her arms. He managed a small smile and pulled her to his body. She sniffed and buried her head into his chest.

"I don't want to be dead inside," she whispered, so low that he could barely hear her. "Not anymore."

"Me neither," he said back. She looked at him and narrowed her eyes, studying him.

"You better not give up," she said forcefully. "You're not allowed to." He had thought it would take her longer to see through him. "Dean, people need you. Your brother needs you," she paused and looked at him carefully. "I need you, Dean."

He hadn't thought of that. He'd gone through every possible reason for living had not thought that she would care all that much. He looked at her with shocked eyes and she nodded.

"I do. You let me sleep at night and you make me laugh and dance and crack jokes and you keep me sane, Dean. You can't leave me when I barely know you." She looked scared and worried. "You are the best of us Dean. A weapon of heaven with a GED and a give 'em hell attitude. We need you." He laughed and kissed her cheek.

"I think that was exactly what I needed to hear," he admitted quietly. She blushed slightly and punched him jokingly.

"Good."

"And Kat?"

"Yea Batman?" He sighed, things were back to normal when he had a nickname.

"I…I need you too," he mumbled. She smiled and nodded. She had heard him, and she wouldn't make fun of him for it. She turned her back to him and started for the house.

"Do you mind if I talk to Cas alone?" She asked, as they walked inside.

"No, knock yourself out," he said. He was worried about what she wanted to talk about, but trusted her. She went down to the basement and locked eyes with the angel.

"Can I talk to you?" She asked carefully.

"Yes," he said stiffly. He did not want this. He didn't want to be alone with her.

"You are Castiel?" she asked for confirmation. Everyone called him Cas, but she had made the leap.

"Yes, I am an angel of the Lord," he said, tilting his head curiously.

"The one I prayed to?" She asked again. His eyes grew wide with fear and pain.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you answer?" She asked softly, her eyes filling with tears. Cas looked startled. He had expected her to scream and attack and hit, not this.

"I couldn't."

"Why not?" She pressed, walking closer to him. She could see the panic in his eyes, but beyond that, the guilt.

"Heaven had given me an assignment, many years ago…and I took matters into my own hands to save a life. They found out about my disobedience and barred me from Earth. I heard you calling, but I could not reach you," he told her sadly. His entire frame was crushed with guilt, his wings drooping to trail along the ground. He froze suddenly when she hugged him, pulling the angel to her.

"I don't blame you," she whispered.

"I…got a message to Gabriel the day you escaped. So he could help you," he said quietly, his arms still by his side.

"I know you did. He said he owed you a favor. Thank you, Cas. For everything," she said. His mouth twitched upwards and he wrapped his arms around her too, crushing her closer. She allowed him to, feeling as though she were being held by a parent. He provided strength and wisdom and was the rock that Team Free Will needed.

"You are very welcome," he said sincerely. He wanted nothing more than to tell her everything. Explain his charge and his duties and his disobedience. He wanted to tell her why he was barred from heaven and why he could hear every scream and every moan of pain from her time there. He wanted to explain how he had saved his charge, and why it was wrong.

But he couldn't. Instead he held onto her for as long as he could, breathing in her scent and then releasing her. She smiled at him and went back upstairs, letting him resume his faithful vigil over Sam, who was quiet for now.

She found Dean and Bobby upstairs and sat heavily into a kitchen chair. They glanced at her and she waved them off. She rested her head on the table and sighed deeply.

"We should take a break after this," she said.

"Me and Sam were thinking Fiji," Dean said smirking.

"What about Bora Bora?" she questioned. He smiled and shrugged.

"As long as it's secluded and there isn't anything supernatural," he said. She nodded in agreement and went for coffee. "you and Cas duke it out?"

"He told me why, and I told him I understood and I hugged him...and he hugged me back," she said smiling softly. Bobby looked confused but let it go. "You know what I just realized?"

"What?" Dean asked.

"He's the one from my dream…the only good one I've ever had," she said, remembering the night. He hadn't said anything, just been there.

"Maybe he was trying to make up for not being there," Dean suggested.

"Well, it was much appreciated."

"Just so you know, that was the first day he had been on Earth. I bet making sure you slept easy was one of the first things he did," Dean said, wanting Cas to get the credit he deserved.

"After he pulled you from hell, you mean," she said. She had made the jump to how they treated each other.

"Yup. Cas is a good guy," he said. And he knew it was true. If there was someone her could rely on, it was Cas. He had proven to Dean over and over that he would got to the ends of the Earth to do the right thing. It gave Dean a sort of hope that no hunter could provide.

Kat was quiet as she watched Dean reminisce. His eyes were distant and his mouth was in a slight smile. She grabbed a much needed cup of coffee and inhaled the black drink deeply. She took a long sip and sighed as she imagined the caffeine rushing to her bloodstream and waking her up. Bobby looked at her worriedly. He thought she should sleep, but knew she wouldn't.


	52. Chapter 52

**Okayy so I'm updating again! I'm a weee bit disappointed with the lack of reviews on ch. 51, but I don't wanna get pushy….*puppy face*. Review *sniffle*. Please? This one is pretty long so….love me? It's a lot less chick-flick and a lot more season one-ish humor. I missed that *sigh***

**Love and Rockets (they go boom) –Han Also- Ry, I fully plan on getting back on the main plot track, but everything I'm doing has a purpose. And would ya quit with the ruining of my mojo?**

"You should sleep," Dean said and Bobby grunted his agreement.

"No."

Dean smirked. He knew he would get that answer but felt he had to try anyway. He finished off his own coffee and looked at her. "Then will you make breakfast?"

She sighed and stood, lazily walking to the fridge and then the stove, starting all of the regular breakfast items as well as a pie crust.

"You're making me pie?" Dean asked in awe.

"Not you, I'm craving it. You'll all be lucky if you get crust," she said, preheating the oven and starting bacon.

"B-but…you…I want pie," Dean whimpered.

"Relax, you'll get some," she said, easing his mind. She cooked for an hour, give or take, and made up five plates. The apple pie was cooling on top of the stove. As if she meant for it to happen that way, Cas and Sam ascended the stairs and walked into the kitchen. Sam's face was hesitant and ashamed. His broad shoulders were slumped inwards and his tall frame seemed diminished. Cas walked in unaffected and sat in chair with his hands folded in his lap. Kat looked away from the plates and smile warmly at Sam.

He thought she looked like a mother, only younger and more beautiful. He was crushed with guilt and shame, and couldn't look his brother in the eye. He was afraid he would be hated. He was afraid that Kat and Bobby would turn their backs on him and wouldn't be able to stand being around him. He was afraid his brother would go back to the way things were before Kat, tense and silent. But one smile from her, put him at ease.

Her hair was out and long and fell around her pale face. She turned all the way to see him and held out a plate, still smiling kindly.

"Have breakfast, you've got to be starving," she said, setting down the other plates for Dean and Bobby. Sam sat down and watched as she brought a final two plates. She set hers in front of herself and put the other in front of Cas. He stared at her oddly, but she wasn't looking at him anymore, just looking into her plate as she picked at her bacon. The angel hesitantly picked up a fork and stabbed at the scrambled eggs. Kat smiled to herself as Castiel popped them into his mouth and chewed.

He looked up and stared at Kat. "These are very good," he said, looking at his fork like it held the answers to all the worlds questions.

"She is an amazing cook," Sam said, smiling at Kat. Dean exhaled, glad that he seemed to be okay and nodded his agreement.

"I see why people eat so much on Earth," Cas said in wonder as he ate more.

"Should we be offended?" Kat asked Dean, smiling cheekily.

"I don't know, maybe we should," he said, playing along.

"I did not mean to offend you," Cas rushed to say, his blue eyes wide and anxious. Kat giggled to herself and patted his back.

"We were just teasing, calm down," she soothed gently. Dean rolled his eyes and Sam chuckled as the angel's face relaxed and his cheeks flushed gently. Bobby just shook his head and kept eating. "Do we have a plan for the next few days or are we goin' back on the road tomorrow?"

"I do not have anymore leads for you," Cas said around a piece of bacon. "What is this?"

"Bacon."

"I enjoy bacon."

"We'll head out tomorrow, Sammy can probably find us some hunt…right Sam?" Dean asked, looking at his brother. Sam looked up and smiled.

"Yea sure, I'll start researching after breakfast," he said smiling.

"Oh no you don't. You are going to take a shower and then you are going to sleep. I'll find a hunt," Kat said glaring at him.

"But-"

"Did you get any sleep? At all?" She cut him off.

"No…" he sighed.

"You are sleeping. And so is Dean. Don't give me that look Batman, you're dead on your feet and if you don't take a nap you won't get any pie," she threatened.

"There's pie?" Cas asked, looking at the stove with wonder in his eyes.

"I'll save you a piece hun, don't worry," she said smiling.

"Kat, you haven't slept either. You drove the whole night to get here," Dean reminded her.

"But I am not tired," she said, with absolute sincerity. Cas looked at her and tilted his head.

"I think she's telling the truth," he said slowly. "But I thought that humans needed to sleep?"

"We do. I just can't right now," she said shrugging. She looked at Dean and saw the purple streaks beneath his eyes and knew he was exhausted. "But you need to sleep," she said sternly.

"Yes mom," he said sarcastically.

"She isn't your mother," Cas corrected, his face confused as to how Dean could have made that mistake.

"He knows Cas. He was tryin' to be cute," Kat said smiling.

"I do not think Dean is cute," he said seriously. Bobby laughed loudly and shook his head as Dean looked offended.

"I think I'm adorable," he said, frowning.

"It's just you, Dean," Bobby said grabbing more bacon. Kat smiled and sipped at her coffee more.

"What is that?" Cas asked, looking at the coffee.

"I don't think you'd like it. It's an acquired taste," she said.

"But how can I acquire it if I never have it?" He asked logically. She sighed poured him a small cup. She passed it to him and he took it in his hands. She thought, that if she stopped looking at his wings, and the silver light behind his eyes, that a cup of coffee fit perfectly with his suit and trench coat. He brought the mug to his lips and took a sip.

He coughed and scrunched up his face. He opened his wide blue eyes and looked at Kat. "How can you drink that?"

"It keeps us humans awake," she said smiling. He nodded skeptically and went back to eating. Dean finished his coffee and leaned back in his chair.

"Sleep. Now," she said, standing up to clear his plate. He sighed and nodded slowly. Sam laughed mockingly at him and finished his plate. "You too Prettyboy, go get some sleep," she ordered. Dean laughed at him then, as the both of them stood and headed for bed.

"I should be going," Cas said standing slowly.

"Drop by later tonight for pie, okay?" She asked, as she moved to the dishes.

"Of course," he said his face passive. She heard the flutter of wings and knew that he had gone.

"He's one weird angel," she said.

"I can agree with you there," Bobby said gruffly. She stood from the table and came back with Sam's laptop, opening it and heading straight or her favorite search sites. Bobby watched her with almost sad eyes as she became consumed in her work. He knew she should sleep. He knew she pushed herself too hard. She hardly ate anything, she fought too hard and sacrificed herself too often, she isolated herself from other people, and she hid anything she thought could harm someone else. He wondered if she ever thought of herself. She spent so much damn time worrying about other people. If he hadn't known her so long, he would have been afraid she would drop.

But she could never let that happen. He knew that the thing that she hated the most, was showing weakness. He wished he could convince her that it was alright to break down. She never got the chance to be a real kid, never got the chance to cry when she scraped her knee or when she didn't get the toy she wanted. He wanted her to be the child she deserved to be. Bobby thought that Dean brought that out in her sometimes. He could see it in the way she said things around him and how the tough exterior around her would melt away. He knew she was strong. Stronger than any of them. But he also knew she was fragile. He hoped that Dean would tread lightly, just liked he hoped that he would protect her.

Whether she liked it or not, he thought she needed the Winchesters. They were bringing out the best in his daughter, and yes she was his daughter. He saw her smile more than he had in the whole time he had known her and she had found a way to sleep through the whole night. She was giving then the hope they needed to carry on. She was acting the mother to Sam and the friend to Dean. Well, he didn't think that what she and Dean had could be labeled anything. But as far as he knew, he was okay with it.

He watched her scrub at her eyes and yawn loudly. She blinked and smiled at Bobby, who just shook his head deftly.

"You should sleep," he said quietly.

"But-"

"Just a nap or something," he pleaded. He saw the exact moment she caved. Her eyes went from pleading to exhausted and her shoulders drooped. She smiled and stood, patting him on the back as she walked past him.

She walked into Dean's room, and paused only long enough to kick off her boots and slide under the covers. He immediately wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest. "I thought you weren't tired?"

"Bobby's making me take a cat nap," she said snuggling into a pillow as her back rested against Dean.

"Haha, a Kat nap. Get it?" He joked tiredly.

"Yea…I get it Dean," she said closing her eyes. She felt him nuzzle into her neck and fell asleep to the pattern on his breathing.

Dean hated admitting that he couldn't even take a nap with out her there. As soon as she walked in the room he felt relief roll off of him. And then he was asleep and comfortable against her. When he woke again, his arms were empty and the sky was dark again. He was afraid his sleep schedule would get thrown off. Then he decided he really didn't give a fuck. He got up slowly and stretched his tightly coiled muscles. He felt his bones pop into place and sighed happily. He had slept heavily, feeling well rested when he rose.

He grabbed his clothes and went to shower, enjoying the pounding hot water on the tan planes of his back. When he stepped out, the room was hot and full of steams and droplets of water ran down his abs and into the towel he wrapped around his waist. He was about to dress, when he heard a hesitant knock on the door.

"Dean?" the soft voice asked. He opened the door and looked confused at Kat before him. "Um, you've been in there for like an hour. And…um, dinner's ready," she said, not meeting his eyes. They were instead, locked on the space above his head. He chuckled at her embarrassment and gave a sexy smirk.

"You can look you know…you know you want to," he teased. A light shade of pink bloomed across her cheeks as her eyes flitted to his chest. He watched her swallow heavily and pivot on her foot.

"Just hurry down…your food will get cold," she whispered. He watched her go, not sure if he was happy he had gotten to her or not. He knew, of course, that he was good looking. And he knew that he was fit, as a hunter, he had to be. He also knew that women liked him. But for some reason in the back of his mind, Kat had not fallen under that category. It gave him a certain sense of pride that she approved of his body. And it gave him a certain sense of shame that he made her feel uncomfortable.

He dressed quickly and went down the stairs to the kitchen. When Kat met his eyes, she blushed again and looked away quickly. Bobby glared at him when he noticed and Dean just smiled innocently. Kat handed him a plate and he sat down across from her. Sam was already stuffing his face with her lasagna and chatting with her about the next hunt she had found.

"It looks like a small time salt and burn, nothing huge, just to keep us occupied," she said smiling.

"Who do you think it is?" Sam asked, reviewing her notes.

"It's this church where a deacon died during his service. His ghost has been disrupting services since. It wasn't that bad before, just candles and crosses being thrown around. But then last week, he killed," she said, professionally. Sam was nodding, but stopped suddenly and sucked in a breath.

"Cas! Don't do that!"

"We should get you a bell, man," Dean said, stuffing his face. Cas looked at him, confused, and looked at Kat. She looked up and smiled at him warmly. She got up from her seat and went to the oven. She pulled out the pie and cut off a piece. She put it on a plate and passed it to the angel.

"Here you go," she said softly. He took it carefully and inspected it slowly.

"And this is what Dean likes so much?" He asked carefully.

"Yes, Cas. It's very good," she said patiently. He sat down and stared at the plate. She nudged him gently and he took a bite.

"I see why Dean likes pie," he whispered. Kat giggled while Dean and Sam chuckled to themselves.

"I'm surrounded by idjits," Bobby said to himself.


	53. Chapter 53

**And another one, I'm really sorry I took so long, but I'm getting a lot here, to make you happy.**

Kat rested in the back of the impala, her sketch book open in front of her. She was just flipping through her old drawings, remembering when she drew them. It was the blue one. The one that was less disturbing images from her nightmares and more simple things. The many motel rooms she had stayed in. The rising sun, the full moon, and people. Random people she had seen all over her travels that had inspired something in her. Then the streak of ten or so drawings of Castiel. She had taken to referring to him as the blue-eyed man. But that was before he had had a name. She flipped easily to the last twenty or so pages and smiled. They were all of the boys.

The long drives in the impala had limited her choices for sketching. She had done the car itself more times than she thought possible, and resorted to the brothers. Dean was always a challenge. Getting the curve of his lips was almost impossible, and it took hours to capture the emotions behind his eyes. She liked to draw his eyes. Some pages that was all she drew. Attempting to capture the crinkle in them when he laughed and the widening when he tried to keep himself awake.

For Sam it was his hands. They were long and the fingers elegantly tapered, like a pianists. That and the hard set of his jaw when he was thinking. The crinkle of his brow and the tense stance of his shoulders. She found it difficult to capture the sinew and muscle build up of his body perfectly, and spent her hours trapped in the car playing with the tendons in his hands and the muscles in his shoulders.

Of course, if either of them knew that, they'd probably be pretty creeped out. Not that she really cared. She was taken with them. They were beautiful men, and the emotional trauma they had been through only added to their depth as subjects. Bottom line; she liked drawing them.

She was drawing both of them, side-by-side when they finally pulled into a motel. Sam turned around to tell her they were there when he stopped short. Her eyes were far away, too far for her to see him there, and her hands were flying across the page. He poked Dean and he turned too. His green eyes roamed over her face and he couldn't help but smile at the look of concentration she wore. Her pale fingers were smudged with the graphite from her pencil and her hair was falling in tendrils around her face. She stopped and smiled at her work and looked up at them. Her eyes widened at the boys and a faint flush worked its way onto her cheeks.

"Are we here?" She asked, trying to hide to drawing. Dean reached out and grasped her wrist gently, not putting enough force to hurt her. She sighed and showed the pair of them what she had been working on. Her nimble fingers flipped the pad to show them the drawing. There was a collective gasp from the guys as their image was thrown back at them. Dean leaning against the impala with his hands in his pockets; the sun was in his eyes and his lips drawn into a stern line. Sam stood by the passengers door, his long hand gripping the door frame and the wind tousling his longer hair. The road behind them was pale dirt and the sky was wide and open and blue.

"Holy shit," Dean whispered. He looked back up at Kat and smiled. She squirmed underneath their gaze.

"Just tell me if you like it! The suspense is freakin' killin' me!" she said finally. Sam laughed and shook his head.

"It's amazing! How do you even _do_ that?" He asked looking closer. She chuckled lightly and shrugged, not answering. She looked up at Dean and smiled softly.

"I look good," he said in that cheeky Dean way. She rolled her eyes and got out of the car, closing the door carefully, after swinging her duffel onto her shoulder. Dean went off to get a room and she leaned against the side of the car.

"Sam, are you alright?" She asked suddenly. Sam looked up from the pavement and moved slightly closer to her.

"Yea, I'm okay…just…" he didn't finish. She nodded her understanding and grasped his hand. He stared down at his long hand, entrapped by her small elegant fingers.

"Addiction…is a hard thing to beat," she said quietly. "But you have us to fall back on. We'll keep you on the wagon. Don't worry."

"You…you don't understand…h-how badly I want it. It's almost all I can think about. Just…needing it. All the time," he choked out. His shoulders were slumped and he ran his free hand through his hair. She turned him towards her and wrapped her arms around him. He leaned down and rested his cheek against the top of his head.

"I…I know how it feels to want something like that…of course what I wanted was salvation. So maybe it isn't the same. But Sam…I'm here for you…and so is Dean," she whispered into his chest.

Sam was ashamed of himself. Not only for his dependency on demon blood, but for forgetting what she had gone through.

"It was stupid…really stupid. I…after what I went through…everyday, I could stitch myself up. No anesthesia, no painkillers, no liquor. It…it hurt so badly, the burn and the pulling. You've probably had to do it at least once. But I never minded. You know why?" She asked, looking up at him.

"Why?"

"Because I was in control. Dean knows what I mean…but once you have all control ripped from you, you need it. You thrive on it. It's all you can think about, all you can do to stay sane," she caught her breath and sighed. "Even now…I have to stop myself from causing extra pain. I have to force myself to drink something to dull the pain. To me…pain isn't a bad thing anymore. It reminds me I'm alive," she said her eyes brimming.

"You don't…cut yourself or anything…do you?" he asked, remembering some of the people in his college classes that had had the addiction.

"No. I'm a hunter, Sam, it's stupid of me to inhibit myself ever. I would become an easy target," she said rolling her eyes at his stupidity. "But I know what it feels like to want, Sam. I know what it feels like to need."

Sam was quiet, his arms still around her and his mind aching for her. She was breathing heavily, as if saying it all was equal to running a marathon. She kept her blue eyes locked onto his hazel ones and reached up. He eyed her oddly as she went on her tip-toes to make herself level with him. Or tried to. Her head still barely reached his chin. He leaned down, unsure of what she was doing. She smiled and kissed his cheek, brushing her lips against his skin.

"Don't get too down on yourself, just take every moment as it comes," she whispered against his face. He shivered slightly, his muscles trembling beneath her. He felt like a small child, being consoled by a mother. He had never known a mother. He'd never known how one could make him feel. And suddenly, he understood his brother's hero worship of their mother. He understood his need to be a man his mother would be proud of. He understood Dean's thinking, and that was quite the feat.

"Okay," he whispered. "As long as you promise to take it easy on yourself."

"You know I can't promise you that! In our line of work there are always risks," she admonished.

"But you can try," he insisted.

"Fine. I promise to try," she said, stepping back and looking at Dean. He had been there for about half of her speech, but had given them room. If he was being honest with himself, he would admit that when she rose to meet Sam's face, his heart had stopped. His lungs had shut down until her lips went to his cheek and he reminded himself to breathe. When she turned and smiled at Dean, he smiled back. She moved away from Sam and walked towards him.

"How long were you there?" She asked softly.

"Long enough," he said gruffly.

"He won't slip. We won't let him," she assured him. He nodded his confirmation and half hugged her as she approached him. She reached up on her toes and brushed her lips across his cheek as she walked passed. He smirked and spun, following her into the room. Sam reached him and clapped him on the back, giving him a patronizing smile as he went into the room.

"Oh, come on Sammy!" he joked.

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

They dropped their bags and collapsed on their own beds. Dean and Kat immediately curling around each other. They stayed there for a moment, letting their coiled muscles relax and get used to the room. They were finally out of the confines of the impala and they needed the space. Kat stood wearily, disentangling her body from Dean's and opening one of her duffels. Sam and Dean rose too, cracking their backs and grabbing their wallets.

"I'm gonna grab a shower," she told them, heading for the bathroom.

"We'll go by the diner we saw on the way in. Cheese-burger?" Dean asked.

"With bacon," she added, shutting the door to the main room. The boys smiled and went back to the car when they heard the shower start.

Kat stripped, letting her clothes fall to the cracked linoleum. She couldn't stop her eyes from travelling to the mirror and staring at her marred creamy skin. She saw the elegant patterns of ropey skin scrolling from her shoulders down her arms. The lines were like contemporary vines, wrapping around her limbs along with other smaller, deeper scars. They speckled her arms, never crossing the vine-like Celtic lines. Her stomach carried the twirling lines further, avoiding her chest and circling her navel.

Her legs were a different story. They were arcane. Brutal. The lines were haggard and cruel. Some were raised, the brands, and others lay flat and were white. She ran her fingers through her hair and moved it from her back. There were her wings. Raised and silver in tint, and perfect. She shouldn't love them, she knew she shouldn't. But she was strangely proud of them, like it was proof she had survived.

She figured she had wasted enough hot water and stepped underneath the spray. Immediately her muscles relaxed, and her eyes slid closed. As she washed, she sang. Just because she could. Her head tipped back as a song came to her and she let it out. It was a freeing thing…to sing. Like she was letting things go without her even knowing it and made the weight on her shoulders a little less heavy.

"_Woah, woah._

_Bang bang go the coffin nails, like a breath exhaled,  
>Been gone forever.<br>It seems just like yesterday, how did I miss the red flags raised?  
>Think back to the days we laughed.<br>We braved these bitter storms together.  
>Brought to his knees he cried,<br>But on his feet he died!_

_What God would damn a heart?  
>And what God drove us apart?<em>

_What God could make it stop?  
>Let this end.<br>Eighteen years pushed to the ledge.  
>It's come to this,<br>A weightless step.  
>On the way down singing,<br>Woah, woah!"_

Dean and Sam arrived back at the motel and walked wearily through the door. Dean's shoulders straightened as he heard her singing. He didn't know the song, but that didn't matter. It was beautiful and sad and it reminded him that other people in the world had problems. And not all were demon related. It made him sit down and listen. Sam sat too, because he had lived those problems. His time in college had opened his eyes to the rest of the world. Teenagers who were at the edge of their own world, and killing the demon wasn't the way to stop it. They didn't have a clear cut way out.

Food forgotten, they sat on their beds and listened to her as her voice amplified and poured through the walls. Dean felt like his soul was waking up and he was being reborn. None of them noticed Cas appear and sit on one of the plastic chairs, quietly listening to her.

"_Bang bang from the closet walls,  
>The schoolhouse halls,<br>The shotgun's loaded.  
>Push me and I'll push back.<br>I'm done asking, I demand!_

_From a nation under God,  
>I feel its love like a cattle prod.<br>Born free, but still they hate.  
>Born me, no I can't change!<em>

_It's always darkest just before the dawn.  
>So stay awake with me, let's prove them wrong!<em>

_Make it stop.  
>Let this end,<br>Eighteen years pushed to the ledge.  
>It's come to this,<br>A weightless step.  
>On the way down singing,<br>Woah, woah!"_

"Do you know what song this is?" Dean asked, looking at Sam and nodding to Cas.

"It's by Rise Against. It's on her IPod," he said, his eyes on the door.

"I gotta listen to her IPod," he said.

"_The cold river washed him away,  
>But how could we forget?<br>Gathering the candles, but not their tongues._

_And too much blood has flown from the wrists,  
>Of the children shamed for those they chose to kiss.<br>Who will rise to stop the blood?_

_We're calling for,  
>Insisting on, a different beat, yeah.<br>A brand new song._

_Whoa, whoa.  
>Whoa, Whoa.<br>Whoa, Whoa.  
><em>

_Make it stop,  
>Let this end.<br>This life chose me, I'm not lost in sin.  
>But proud I stand of who I am,<br>I plan to go on living._

_Make it stop,  
>let this end,<br>all these years pushed to the ledge,  
>but proud I stand, of who I am,<br>I plan to go on living!"  
><em>

Her voice had risen to a crescendo and filled the room fully. Dean wiped a hasty hand across his eyes, for fear that tears might have fallen. He blinked slowly and let his head fall. He thought that those sonsofbitches who called themselves singers had never heard anything close to singing. They had never heard angels cry and seen wind. But you could if you were listening to her.

Sam was thinking much the same, but let his few tears fall unchecked down his cheeks. His addiction could be controlled, could be triumphed over. People all over the world were suffering more, had suffered more. He could be strong in order to save them. He had to save those people that didn't know they needed saving. He was where he was needed the way he was needed. Strong and healthy and good.

Cas had left the moment her voice had faded, only going in the first place because her voice made him happy. It made it clear that she was alive and healthy and strong. He listened to her because it gave him hope that God cared and was working with them, for their cause. But he left before he could see her and the broken look she almost always wore deep behind her eyes. Humans could not see it. But he was an angel. He saw into the marred broken soul that was Kat. It made it hard to be around her. Because he knew he had failed her.


	54. Chapter 54

**Review! It makes me happy. And happy writers update sooner. Oh! And yea…xxmaskedchickxx I thought you would appreciate the Bora Bora thing. **

Kat walked out of the steaming bathroom dressed for bed and fully naïve to the emotions she had unleashed on the hunters. Sam was still sniffling and Dean had taken to staring at the edge of the bed, his eyes bleak and unseeing. She could practically feel the guilt and regret in the air around them and wished she had chosen a happier song to sing. One about unicorns. Sam might like that.

She glared at them, daring them to continue down the emotional road. Dean looked up at her, her eyes icy on him and he realized what they were doing to her. She'd silently dealt with any problem they had thrown at her. Any time they needed anything, she was there. It had to be wearing on her, being their pocket-sized therapist. So he pulled his mouth into a charming smirk and passed her her food.

"You're lucky you're getting that. The waitress was freakin' hot," he informed her, biting into his own burger. Sam looked up and glared at him, and took his salad from his hands. Dean always had to do that. Turn off any emotional moment with a witty remark. He knew he was trying to relieve the tension, but it made Sam rest easier if what he was feeling was in the open.

"Does that mean she turned you down?" Kat quipped back, trying to repress the feelings of unease. He could have gone if he'd wanted to. Did that mean he didn't want to? She knew he hadn't gotten any since she had joined them, and it must've been wearing on Dean, who slept around to relieve stress. So why hadn't he jumped at the opportunity? Why did she have to repress shivers of disgust, just thinking about him and a woman?

"Oh no. She was layin' it on pretty thick," he said smirking. The waitress had been blonde and fake and easy. Usually his type for a quickie. If you asked him right then, he wouldn't have been able to tell you why he hadn't responded. He didn't even have to try and control himself. There was nothing to control. He had felt nothing when she let her hands dance across his forearm. Had felt even less when she swayed her hips as she walked away. "I just wasn't in the mood." That was the only explanation he could think of anyway.

Hell had changed him, that much was for sure. He was rarely in the mood anymore, but the apocalypse on top of it? He felt like a monk and he didn't even care. It wasn't as if that part of himself had turned off. Mornings were enough to prove that. But he had chalked that up to being wrapped around a beautiful woman. Not that he felt anything other than animalistic attraction for her, and he wouldn't admit that much even if a gun was held to his head. No, he'd get over it.

His musings were cut off by Sam's snort. "You're always in the mood." His brother seemed to have forgotten that he had come back a changed man. That life meant something different and that he hadn't had sex in a month and counting. He didn't say anything back, just kept eating with that cocky smirk hovering over his features. He'd be damned if he gave his brother more to worry about. And not wanting sex would definitely worry Sam.

Kat dove into her bacon cheese burger like it was the elixir of life, and as far as she was concerned, it was. She ignored Dean's smirk and focused on her food and the research she had for the hunt. The job. The reason they were here. Not to muse over thoughts of Dean or singing in the shower.

"So I was thinking we should head over to the church tomorrow," she said, knowing that the Sunday service would be fairly crowded. "And maybe Dean should not talk."

"Why not?" he asked indignantly.

"Because you're patronizing when it comes to faith. You know half of this shit is true and you'd still offend people who believe," she said with such assurance that he believed her for a moment.

"Hey! I can be nice to the Jesus freaks!"

"No you can't," she said, looking him dead in the eyes. He knew she was right. But that wasn't just on the subject of faith. He was naturally socially awkward (except around women) and offended people in general. Whether they were into Jesus or not.

"Fine. You and Samantha can do the talking," he said, leaning back into his bed with a beer.

Kat giggled to herself and crawled onto the bed with Dean, ready to crash. She cuddled to Dean's side and closed her eyes, loving the electric feel of her skin when she touched him. He was a very good pillow, and an even better cuddler. Sometimes she would wake in the middle of the night, pressed against his chest, with his face buried into her neck. If she were being honest with herself, she would admit that it made her happy. But she wasn't, so she simple admitted that she dealt with it. Dean smirked as she cuddled to his side, leaving him enough room to drink and shift if he wanted to. He let his eyes flutter closed as she made small noises as she got comfortable. Slight whimpering came from her as she drifted off and both Dean and Sam admired her child-like qualities. They didn't understand how she could still be so gentle and sweet in this life. They had seen her when she showed no remorse, but they had also seen what was underneath it.

They could see the sweet girl she would have been, if Alistair had never dragged her into this life. They could see the strong woman she was because he did. Sam thought that she deserved so much more than this life; Dean thought that she was damn good at it. Neither would ever tell her how often they thought of her, because they were not only men, they were hunters. And hunters didn't do that sort of thing.

She drifted off quickly, letting Dean warm her as she slept. She would have to act tomorrow. Act like she had real faith. She knew God was real, had met him even, but her faith was thin and frail. God was real. But did he really give a damn about his people? If he did shouldn't he be more actively involved? If he cared shouldn't he be working tirelessly to fix this mess? If he really cared, would he have let her be tortured? Would he have let Sam die? Or Dean make the deal? Or let Dean suffer for decades in Hell?

She tried not to think about it, instead letting herself be consumed by sleep, where she didn't have to think about anything.

Sam leaned back onto his own bed, and sighed to himself. He hadn't had a nightmare in the month since Kat had joined them. He wasn't sure why, and didn't really care. All he knew was that he could dream with out fear of it morphing into a nightmare. He silently thanked whatever being had brought her to them. It made him happy.

Dean finished his beer and shimmied himself under the covers, immediately wrapping his arms around the small woman beside him.

The next morning Sam and Dean were in their suits. They felt the general uncomfortable stiffness that came with wearing one, but at least the both of them had a good nights sleep. Dean thought his jaw might have hit the floor when Kat walked out of the bathroom.

He hair was done up in a loose bun, some curls resting around her face. She had light eyeliner and a light pink gloss as her makeup, making her look respectable and beautiful. She wore a light blue blouse with long sleeves and a slight V-neck. That was covered with a sliky scarf, tied in a loose knot. She wore a black skirt that rested at her knees and clung to her curves. Her strappy black heels finished the outfit and made her a clear respectable church girl.

She smiled brightly at the stunned men and walked out towards the car. Her hips swaying naturally as she went.

"What about your weapons?" Dean asked as they went outside. Kat giggled to herself and shook her head lightly.

"I have a pocket knife, a bowie knife, and a 9mm on me," she said smirking. Dean let his eyes ravage her form with no embarrassment.

"_Where_?" he asked.

"For me to know…" she trailed off, getting into the back of the impala and staying quiet for the rest of the drive. They arrived at the church quickly and joined the masses of the devout. Kat noticed the stiffness in Dean's back and the relaxed smile on Sam's face. She hooked her arm with Dean's and gave him a small smile. He offered a strained one back and they took seats in the back rows.

Kat listened carefully to the service. The current priest smiled at the faithful and told them that their last father was in a better place and that he wouldn't want them to mourn him. He continued by saying that it was such a tragedy that men should die by heart attacks, but that it was simply God's will. Kat gripped Dean's hand to keep him from snorting his distaste.

Dean knew that if God was out there, he didn't give a crap about any of these people. He didn't spend his time picking and choosing who would live and who would die. It amazed him how often people did that. Assumed that a higher power cared about people as small as they were. He still didn't understand why God had singled _him_ out.

His eyes flitted to her and smiled. She was still facing forward, had not even turned to glance at him, but had known he was building up to expressing his opinions. He stopped listening to the service and started thinking about how she fit into all of this. What Cas had told him so many nights ago in his car was constantly scratching at his brain. He had tried to bury it deep inside himself, but kept coming back. He wished that the angel had never admitted who she was…what she was.

He did wish he knew what her destiny was supposed to be. His and Sam's were planned out and the angels were betting that they would give in. But did Kat have one? A planned out pathway that she had to follow? Given what he knew about her, and what Cas had told him, he doubted she would stick to one.

When the service ended, Kat waited back. She approached the pulpit and smiled warmly at the fifty-something man in robes.

"Hello. I'm Katherine Montgomery, I'm new in town and I like to meet the man I worship with," she said brightly. Her voice was sweet and assuring and Sam thought she would do well in the con business. "I wanted to say that that was a very moving service. I didn't know the late father, but by the way you talked about him, I wished I did."

"That's awfully kind of you dear," the man said in a soothing voice. "I'm Father Simmons. And who are these young men?"

"This is my husband Dean and my brother Sam," she said confidently as they men shook hands with the father. "We wanted to express our condolences, to both this priest and the last one. Father Murdock," she said with wide sad eyes.

"Did you know Murdock?" Simmons asked.

"Yes. I passed through this town a few years back. He got me onto a better path," she said sadly. The priest smiled and held her hands in his own wrinkled ones.

"I'm glad to hear that you found God."

"How did he die, Father?" She asked gently, as if it would give her closure to know.

"The police say that his water was poisoned. He had paused during the service to drink," the old man whispered.

"And they never found who did it?" She asked in a shocked voice.

"No. The whole town was scared stiff for months. His wife was so distraught," he confided.

"I'm so sorry you all had to go through that. Losing a loved one isn't something I would wish on my worst enemy," she said softly.

"The pain of his loss has made us a stronger community, in the end," he said, smiling sadly.

"And he is in a better place?" She made it a question, searching his eyes.

"I believe he is still with us," the priest said softly. Sam and Dean gave them space as she did their job twenty-times better than they ever could.

"Why do you think that?" She asked, her voice open to his opinions. There was no judgment in her voice and father found solace in it.

"Things move here. Candles and crosses are flung across the room, and it gets cold in some places. Sometimes I swear I can see him."

"And do you think he was responsible for the late priests heart attack?"

"I don't know. I hope not," he said quietly.

"Is Father Murdock buried outside?" She asked finally.

"Yes. Why?"

"My friends and I…we can solve your problem. We know how to put him to rest. Permanently," she said carefully.

"How…how do you know about these things?"

"We help people. We save them from what they cannot understand," she said softly. "But we'll need your help."

The Father was silent a long time, before looking into her eyes and realizing he felt he could trust her. "What do I need to do?"

"Keep the church and the grounds empty tonight. Get yourself and your family safe at home and be sure no one comes here. We don't want anyone to be hurt," she said softly.

"How do I keep them safe?" he asked with wide eyes.

"Salt your home. Salt is too pure for them to cross over," she said seriously. He nodded and patted her shoulder fondly.

"You really are God sent," he said as he passed her. She smiled sadly, not believing him, and met back up with Sam and Dean.

"We're good to go," she said smiling.

"You're really good at that. I almost believed you," Sam said smiling at her.

"All in the eyes," she said winking. "So Murdock was murdered, and they never found the guy who did it. Coincidence? I think not!"

"So he's around for vengeance?" Dean asked.

"Looks like," she said, shrugging. "We've got some time to kill before we hit the salt and burn, so…do you want to talk to the wife?"

"Sure, we will. You can do what ever you want," Sam said smiling.

"I can help," she started.

"You just did all the work in there, let us feel useful," Dean said smirking. Kat nodded and they dropped her off at the motel. She stripped down to her underwear and changed into old jeans and an AC/DC shirt. She collapsed on her bed and pulled her laptop to herself. She spent the rest of the afternoon doing research and updating Bobby on the case.

When Sam and Dean came back, they were surprised to see her nose deep in her laptop and books surrounding her. Dean cocked his head to the side and read the title she was reading on the laptop. 'Half-breeds of the supernatural world.'

"Don't worry about that too much, you're still the same person," he reminded her.

"I just want to know what I am," she said quietly. Sam smiled, he could understand that. He had faced much the same dilemma, and he had fought to understand it.

Dean nodded, wishing she would give it up. He didn't want her to be hurt by the truth. He wished _he_ didn't know. It was like when his father told him he might have to kill Sammy. It was knowledge he didn't want.

"Does this have to do with the whole spine-shifting-eyes-glowing thing?" Sam asked, crashing on his own bed.

"I promised Bobby I'd look into it," she said with out looking up. Dean sighed and looked at her slowly.

"Don't get caught up in it. You'll find an answer, but it doesn't have to be today," he said softly, taking his clothes to change for the work ahead of them tonight. Kat thought that Dean was right, whether she liked to admit or not. She shut down her computer and picked up all the books around her.

"You're listening to Dean?" Sam asked, his voice full of shock.

"Don't sound so surprised," she said sarcastically. "You're brother's a lot smarter than you give him credit for."

"Oh I know. It's just better for all of us if his ego stays down," Sam said, smirking. "It's big enough as it is."

"With good reason, Sammy boy," Dean's voice called from the other side of the door.

"Dammit!" Sam whispered. "He's never gonna let me live this down."

"Not even an option," Dean voiced.

"You are not going to enjoy the next few days," Kat said, laughing lightly.


	55. Chapter 55

**This one is EXTREMELY short, but with a cliff hanger type thingy so deal and I might puts something up later today. Love and Rockets (I do like fire….)**

When night fell, the three hunters went to church. Dean thought he'd never see the day, when he walked into a church for something other than the protection the holy ground provided. Kat was in front of them, leading the way into the graveyard. She followed an obviously learned route to the headstone she needed.

It was relatively new. The white marble still shone and seemed to glow under the moon. Sam and Dean grabbed their shovels and broke ground, while Kat stood beside them, shotgun raised. It was only a few minutes later that she fired the first shot.

The priest was angry. Fucking pissed would be a better term. He flicked his hand and Kat flew backwards, her back cracking against a marble headstone. Dean called her name, but she stood clumsily and gave him a shaky thumbs up. She shot again and caught her breath as the spirit vanished. Her eyes widened as she saw the spirit appear behind Sam.

Kat ran towards him as the father plunged his hand into Sam's chest. He made a soft gurgling sound as Dean tried to push Sam down. The ghost turned to Dean in time for Kat to throw her body before Dean's. Her back arched as the ghost dug his hand into her heart. She coughed and gurgled as she felt her heart clench.

Her eyes rolled back into her head and Dean shouted for her, trying to pull her out of the way. Sam dug furiously, trying to find hit the casket to end it all. Dean picked up Kat's fallen shotgun and fired at the ghost. She slumped down and took the gun from Dean, ushering for him to help Sam.

Dean recoiled every time he heard the shotgun blast. She never missed. Every shot hitting its intended target. When they finally hit the casket, Dean could have cried in relief. Sam cracked it open, revealing the dead Father.

Dean jumped out, pulling Sam with him and stood over the grave, preparing their salt and lighter fluid. Just before he dropped them, he was pushed back. He flew through the air and registered vaguely that he would hit a cross-shaped tombstone head first. He thought this would be a weird way to die. Salt and burns usually were easy. He also knew that the angels would raise him, in hopes that he would play along to their divine plan. He was going to hit the marble, he could imagine the bone-shattering force it would cause him.

Kat threw her self across the three yard distance and curled into the fetal position, taking the brunt of the marble headstone and Dean's weight at once. Dean felt the soft landing and opened his eyes questioningly at the muffled whimper of pain. He rolled off of her as quickly as he could and groaned as he saw her bruised body. He swore he had heard her ribs crack beneath his weight.

Sam flinched as he saw Kat throw herself behind Dean and take the burden of his weight. He saw the ghost go for them again and quickly dropped the matches, watching in grim satisfaction as the spirit burned into nothingness. He debated in his mind whether to fill the hole or help Kat. He looked over to see Dean picking her up and heading for the car.

"I gotta fix her up. You good here?" He asked in a voice laced with guilt. The angels would have brought him back. But now she was hurt.

Sam nodded and got to work, filling the grave with a heavy mind. He had heard something crack as she landed, and turned quickly to check the headstone. There was a fissure in the marble, and a small patch of blood stemming from it. He swallowed heavily and finished as quickly as he could, knowing that Dean would need him.


	56. Chapter 56

**Hi people! I shall upload again! Thanks to everyone that added me to their story/ author alert list – yes I do go through all of those. And thank you to any reviewers, you have no idea how happy that makes me. I read ALL of them…probably more than once. That's how happy that makes me. Love you! –Han**

He rushed Kat to the car, laying her out in the back seat to rest. She moaned softly and tried to find a position where she could breathe. She had been stupid. That much was clear to her. But she wouldn't admit it, simply because Dean was safe. She counted her heartbeats as Dean raced the short distance to the motel.

She was at sixty-two when he opened the door and pulled her back into his arms. They were warm and strong and she wanted to sleep in them. He held her so that her ribs didn't hurt so much and her pounding head was elevated. She thought she felt wetness dripping down her scalp and gave Dean a shaky smile.

"I'm sorry. I got blood on your seats," she whispered. Dean cracked a grin and opened the door quickly.

"When you're better you can clean the seats for me," he said softly. His eyes were soft as they travelled over her face. "I'm gonna need to take your shirt off," he whispered. She nodded and went to take it off; gasping in pain she writhed on the motel bed Dean had placed her on. He winched and grabbed the medical supplies he kept at arms length at all times. He cut her shirt open, leaving her bra and throwing the remains on the floor.

"Hey…I liked that shirt," she mumbled, her skin erupting in goosebumps as it was assaulted by the cool air.

"I'll by you a new one," he assured her, lifting her head to place a thick rag on the wound. "Hold this down," he whispered. She did as he said and arched her back as he poked gently at the fast-forming bruise covering her rib cage. "Yea. At least three are broken. We need to reset and bind them."

"Do it quickly," she hissed, still holding the rag to her head. Her head was pounding, making it hard to see anything or think beyond simple words. The beating in her head and in her heart became erratic, a fast-pumping fast-pounding force in her chest and behind her eyes. The two were never in sync with each other, the beats driving her to the brink of her mind, of insanity.

Dean watched in helplessness as her body convulsed on the sheets. All he could do was hold her down the best he could as her resolve crumbled and she fell into unconsciousness.

It was dark, where she was, but the frantic beating had stopped and her mind was clear. She was alone here, or…she thought she was.

Dean rushed to reset her ribs and wrap them tightly in an Ace bandage, but a warm hand stopped him. His eyes met blue and he glared at the angel. He couldn't help her, he was not strong enough and Dean both knew that and respected that, but Dean had to help her. Dean had to ease her suffering any way he could. He had to help her heal.

"Let me go," he whispered in a deadly voice. Cas thought for a moment, of letting him go, because a man with that much steel in his voice would go to any lengths, any, to save the one he wanted to save. But he held sure.

"No, Dean. She has to do this on her own," he said in his gruff and somehow calming voice. His eyes were wide with pleading and his hands were firm.

"What, Cas? What could she possibly have to do?"

"Heal herself," Cas said with the same assurance he had when he talked about his holy father.

"Cas! She has no idea how to use her powers! Or even if she has any! You made damn sure of that," Dean shouted.

"She can do it," he said resolutely. He released Dean and moved to sit beside her, perched on the edge of her bed, his eyes trained on her. Dean sagged in defeat and dropped into a hard plastic chair. He hoped the angel was right, for all of their sakes.

Sam dragged the shovel behind him, moving slowly and tiredly through the church to, hopefully, to hail a cab. He was roughly halfway through the pews when he was flung unceremoniously backwards into the pulpit. His breath left him in a rush and he knew he would wake tomorrow with bruises.

'For the love of all that's holy,' he thought bitterly as the ghost appeared before him. And he saw it. The damned thing they always managed to look over. The spirit had a rosary, black and onyx, hung around his neck. It was unique, to say the least, and the perfect candidate for a spirit to hold onto.

He cast his mind back, looking, feeling, for the time he had seen it. Because he had seen it. And then he remembered. He remembered talking to the wife, a small frail woman with three large rings and a black rosary. He cursed himself for his stupidity and pulled himself wearily form the ground. The ghost whispered to him from across the room and suddenly, Sam understood. He practically leapt to his feet, running as fast as he could out the doors and into the night.

Kat had huddled into the very recesses of her mind, to escape the beating, and the light. She didn't know if she liked it, it was so bright. Too bright. Just _thinking_ about it made everything in her body sing with pain. But the light kept getting through. She tried to shut her eyes, but in her mind the light was still there.

It was a pulsating silver-tinted expanse. It had no shape. No form. And it burned with a white-hot intensity that soothed. She didn't understand it. She didn't like it.

Kat imagined herself in her mind, her body against this light. She reached out to it, feeling much like the idiotic fish that went willingly into the anglers light, but she did it anyway. Her fingertips brushed against the edges, and she was jerked forward. Her 'body' pulled into the light in a fast motion that had her mind reeling. She would tell herself, much later, that she felt feathers brush against her skin as the silver enveloped her.


	57. Chapter 57

**Heyyyyy! I love you guys sooo much for reviewing! Xxmaskchickxx, you are adorable, your reviews make me very happy no matter when they come in ****. :) Minaghostwolf your comment boosted my ego again, which means I'll write faster. XD you guys are amazing! –Han**

If there was one thing, Dean hated more than inhuman evil sonsofbitches, it was waiting. He didn't care what it was for. If it was for the psychopath they were hunting or if it was for their ID's to be finished at the Copy Jack. He fucking hated waiting.

This had to be the worst kind. Waiting to see if his…whatever she was, would win the battle with a half of herself she didn't even know existed.

He glared at Castiel, taking out the frustration on the angel. Cas thought he understood what Dean was feeling. But at least he did not have to feel Katherine. Her fear and sheer terror and pain at the thing in her mind. The thing that she had unknowingly tapped into the very moment she had touched Dean's skin. He wished he could explain it to her, but she just was not ready.

She wasn't ready for the burden of the knowledge. He'd only given it to Dean because if any one could understand it, it was him. Castiel thought that he had placed a lot of faith into a faithless man, but he did not regret it. If anything it made sense to him. Dean was the one person who didn't rely on a higher power to save him. He would save himself and his family at any cost. He had proved it.

He kept his eyes on Katherine and tried to force down feeling. Her's, Dean's, and his own. His own were the most dangerous. They jeopardized everything he had strived for. The love of his father and the peace he craved for his siblings. He shouldn't feel what he did for Katherine. He shouldn't even feel what he did for Dean. And that was a strained friendship. Built on trust and lies.

******scene*****

Sam arrived at the house with in ten minutes, thanking every possible deity in the universe for letting it be close to the church. He had no idea what time it was, and frankly, he didn't give a damn. He knocked loudly on the front door, not caring who he woke around him as long as someone answered the door.

And she did. The same frail woman who had once upon a time, been the devoted and loving wife, to Father Murdock.

Fear and confusion graced her wrinkled face as she gazed at the man she knew as Agent Burke.

"Why…what on Earth are you doing out here? And lookin' like that?" she asked, her voice soft and sweet.

"You damn well know why," he said in a hard voice. Any onlooker would think that a hobo was harassing an old lady, but Sam knew better. And so did Old Missus Murdock.

"Why don't you come on inside?" she asked, her voice no longer sweet. He smirked and followed her in, making himself at home on the same loveseat he and Dean had been squashed on five or six hours before. "Now what is this about?"

"You. You killed your husband," Sam said flatly. He cut directly to the point, seeing the 'shock' then the acceptance. The woman fingered the rosary and he watched her eyes dart around her.

"Would you like something to drink?" She asked.

"Why? So you can spike it?" He asked sarcastically. The woman sagged before him and he saw a malicious glint work its way into her eyes.

"He found out about my affair. With father Southerland. The one that just passed, of course, you knew that deary. Didn't you?" She asked, smiling. "He was going to take me out of his will. Couldn't have that…now could I?"

Sam shivered. He hated people like that. The ones that were so absorbed with money and power that they would do anything to get it. "So what? You killed him before he could finalize it?"

"Why you are a smart one, aren't you?" She smiled again. "And I thought I'd covered it up so well. Used the money to buy these rings and left no evidence. That's thanks to all those cop shows, you know," she explained happily.

"Why are you still smiling? You've been caught," Sam said wearily.

"Oh no I haven't. You're here alone. And dressed like that, I would assume no one knows you are here," she said sweetly. She pulled one of her ringed hands from her shawl and Sam watched with dismay as the gun came into view.


	58. Chapter 58

**Yea, I know the last one was short…but I'm making up for it! Okay, we've got drama coming your way! And my other secret-ish (hinted at) plot lines are one the move ! But, lets face it, no one can have a perfect relationship forever. This sadly includes Dean and Kat. Song in this chapter is 'Once Upon A December' from the movie Anastasia. –Han**

Castiel was still seated beside Katherine, mulling over his thoughts. Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, even to an angel, he took her hand. Against his better judgment, he did what he had seen many humans do by the others sickbed. He had taken her hand as if to offer her strength. Strength he neither had nor could give.

Dean jumped violently as Kat's back arched on the sheets, he could hear the pop of bones returning to their positions and winced at the sound. Her skin was luminescent, and her fingers clutched at the sheets. When her back touched down on the bed again, her eyes opened. They were the same icy-blue, at first glance. But there was a silver tint that scared Dean. It made him remember the cruelty of all the supernatural beings he had faced.

He chided himself as her eyes slid to his. They were wide with terror and pain. He had seen that look on many of the people he had saved throughout his life, and he reached out to help her. He gripped her free hand and watched as the silver bloomed further into her eyes, seeming to envelope all of her. And then it faded, shooting back into the pupil in front of Dean's eyes. He shot a panicked glance at Cas, who looked almost proud.

"What the _hell _just happened?" she asked in a strained and cracked voice. She sounded like she hadn't spoken in days. Her head was fuzzy and she barely remembered anything, other than light and pain.

Dean opened his mouth to say something. Anything. But Cas beat him to it.

"I healed you as best as I could. My lack of power made it more painful," Cas said in his soothing voice. Dean even believed him for a moment.

"Oh. Thank you," she said softly. She moved to sit up and hissed as her ribs ached.

"They should be about a week's way into healing," Cas explained. She nodded her understanding and looked around the room.

"Where's Sam?" she asked.

Dean looked around, just noticing that his brother had not come back in the three hours it had taken for Kat to wake up. He stood quickly and grabbed his phone, dialing his brother and shooting sharp glances at Kat. He still had to talk to her.

"Dean?" Sam's voice was tired and worn.

"Yea, where the hell are you?"

"Murdock was attached to a rosary, " he began, but that was enough for Dean.

"Shit! Are you okay. I'll come get you-"

"Dean! Man, calm down. I got it and I burned it."

"How?"

"He told me where it was," Dean could practically hear Sam shrug. "His wife murdered him. He wanted justice."

"And you went to the wifes house in the middle of the night for the rosary?"

"Yup. She had a gun too. Crazy old bitch," he mumbled. "Thank Murdock for helping me."

"What the hell?"

"He went nuts on this chick, even tossed me the rosary. I don't think he really wanted to stay," he said softly. He remembered the smile the spirit wore as it burned away. It was creepy. He liked it better when the bad guys were bad.

"Well forgive me if I don't thank the guy that tried to kill me," Dean said bitterly. And almost killed Kat, he added in his mind.

"He apologized about that. Said he was trying to get your attention, but wasn't used to being a ghost," Sam said with an odd tone. Clearly he didn't understand it either. "I caught a cab back to the motel, I'm commin' in in a second," he said.

A moment later Sam opened the door, his jacket sporting mud stains and rips, a small cut on his forehead.

"Bet you were really convincing as an FBI agent," Dean joked, trying to relieve the tension. Sam smiled wearily and moved toward the bathroom, stopping to look questioningly at Cas. The angel had neither moved from his position on the bed or release Kat's hand. She was looking at him, confused, but content with it. She turned her head and smiled at Sam. He looked at her sadly, seeing her too-pale face and the bags under her eyes.

He paused to pick up the duffel that was on the floor next to her, and kissed her cheek as he stood back up. A faint blush worked its way onto her cheeks and he smiled, feeling better now that she had color.

"You stink," she whispered.

"I know," he whispered back, like it was a huge secret he had to keep. That was always something for him, she was hilarious when she was light-headed or tired. She said random things that didn't make any sense, and it made him laugh. He left for the shower and Cas stood, looking over her carefully.

"I am sorry I caused you pain," he told her, hoping she would understand how deep the apology went.

"It's alright. I'm fine," she said happily. She looked at Dean suddenly, as if remembering he was there. "Can we get some Gummie Bears tomorrow?" She asked suddenly. Castiel looked at her in confusion, tilting his head to the side. Instead of asking, he flew away, feeling relief roll off of him. He did not like to lie to her. It made him feel guilty. And that made it even harder for him to be around her.

Dean chuckled at her, moving close to her again. No matter what had happened, she always managed to make him smile. He remembered what he had to do later and forced it down.

"We have to talk," he said in a hard voice. She blinked at him and smiled goofily.

"Tomorrow," she said. She shifted and sat up straighter, looking at the bloody pillow below her. "Oops."

"Give it here," Dean said tiredly. He was glad she said tomorrow. He was too drained to think through what he was going to say. He stripped the pillowcase and wearily went to the front desk for a new one. By the time he got back, Kat was walking towards a now vacant bathroom, giving Dean a full view of her wings. He knew she loved them, and he thought they were beautiful, but it still hurt him to see them. Because Dean was the type of person to take on another's pain. He remembered Hell when he saw them, and knew he should have scars. He didn't, and she did and it wasn't fair.

Sam crashed heavily onto his bed and rolled over, immediately falling into sleep. Dean replaced the pillowcase and cast aside the top blanket. He considered not showering, and just sleeping, but decided against it. To keep himself awake he decided he would clean his guns.

He went to retrieve his duffel, where it rested near the bathroom. As he picked it up, he caught a few lines of whatever she was singing. A soft children's lullaby, he thought. Maybe from a Disney movie.

_"Dancing bears,_

_Painted wings,_

_Things I almost remember._

_And a song,_

_Someone sings,_

_Once upon a December"_

He moved away from the door, a slight smile on his face. He might be loosing it, but he thought she sang more, recently. He figured that was a good thing. His smile dropped suddenly. With what he wanted to say to her, she wouldn't be singing all that much.

He started cleaning, meticulously picking apart his guns and putting them back together. He was very good at loosing himself in the work. He could forget almost anything. Now he was forgetting what he would have to say tomorrow. It wasn't that he particularly wanted to say it, but he knew for her safety, it had to be done.

When she came back out of the bathroom, he finished his last gun, and grabbed his duffel. His mind was happily blank, and the shower only furthered that. He washed away the grim and dirt and blood and felt at ease. As he slid under the covers, he reached for her as if he had been doing so for all his life. She rolled and snuggled to him, already half asleep. She lazily opened her eyes and smiled at him.

"When do I need to clean your seats?"


	59. Chapter 59

**DRAMA! Be warned. This was really hard to write, because I've never been in the situation and I hate to cause my characters pain…but tell what you think and if it's believable. Love you guys! –Han.**

** p.s. my friend Ryah informed me that the best song for the entire story is 'She Talks to Angels' by The Black Crows. I am inclined to agree with her. So that's the song for the whole thing.**

Dean forced himself awake, pulling himself from restful sleep like the trained soldier he was. His arms were still warm. She was still asleep. He tried to remember the last time he had woken before her. When he opened his green eyes he met blue. He was wrong.

Kat had been awake for an hour or so, just looking at him. He had said they had to talk, and despite the blood loss and exhaustion, she had remembered. She looked over his face, noticing , in the better light, the light dusting of freckles across his nose and his cheekbones. You couldn't see them unless you were close. And she was.

"What are you doing?" He asked as he opened his green eyes. She also noticed how there were streaks of gold, shooting down into the pupil.

"Counting freckles," she whispered, her voice so soft he had to strain to hear. He wrinkled his nose and pouted.

"How many?"

"I was up to thirty-six," she said, her eyes wide. "Sam left for the library. Said he wanted another hunt."

Kat shifted, her arms snaking around Dean's neck, pulling herself closer to him. He was unsure of what to do. This was something that happened to him the morning after sex with a clingy chick. But this was Kat and there was a thrumming in his body that deepened to his skeleton. She tucked her head into the crook of his neck, her face towards his skin. His rough cheek rested against the top of her head and his arms automatically cradled her.

This was not normal. There was sunlight filtering through the motel blinds and both of them were wide awake. This was the part where they went into a compatible state of distance. Neither one of them wanting to divulge deeper into their 'relationship' than they already had. Neither of them were comfortable needing anyone the way they needed each other. Neither of them could handle the emotion they would have to face.

But she did it anyway. She held him close, dreading whatever it was that he would say. Her head still pounded, and her ribs ached, and she wanted it to be over and wanted it to not happen at all.

When she pulled away, wincing as she rolled to her feet, both felt loss. The cold air seeping into their skin and the smell of the other gone. "What did you need to talk about?" she asked in a dead-pan voice.

"What happened last night…" Dean started, standing as well, and feeling as though he was starting his speech. The one he gave every one night stand that wanted more from him. The one that meant he was refusing them and running away from them. He shook himself. This was not what he was doing. He was taking steps to ensure a partners safety. A work partner.

"You were unbelievably, all-consumingly, fucking stupid," he said, his eyes hard and his jaw set. She had no idea how worried he was. It was like watching Sam die. It was like watching his father die. Or his mother. God. It was a lot like watching his mother die. And he felt so responsible. _His_ weight had broken her ribs. She had taken the dive for _him_. To save _his_ life.

He imagined, for a moment, if he had been too late. If she had bled out from the head wound. If she had punctured a lung. If she had died. He would never have forgiven himself. He would have lived the rest of his miserable life with the irrevocable knowledge that he had killed one of the best things to happen to his small family. He could practically feel his soul break, split down the middle and fissure outwards. Shrapnel flying into the rest of his body and mind and killing him from the inside.

"Do you have any idea how worried Sam was?" He spit out. Because he was a cowardly commitment-phobe. And revealing that he had any sort of feeling for her beyond a team member would be a making a commitment and opening a part of himself he wasn't ready for.

"Sam?" her voice was dead. Dean mentally flinched from it. He shouldn't have said that. Kat's bright blue eyes had faded and he thought they looked lifeless and almost black. "I would have hated to disappoint…Sam."

"You better not. You never ever sacrifice yourself for either of us, do you understand?" His voice was deadly and scathing. Each syllable slicing into her like a knife. Dean could almost see her flinching from his voice. "We will be brought back. You won't. And I will not have Bobby on my ass because I didn't protect you. Next hunt you follow my orders! You listen!" He hated this. He sounded like his father. But he knew if he didn't say it, she would jump in front of a bullet next time.

Kat met his eyes, and he had never been more afraid of a human being. Her eyes were stormy and dangerous, her shoulders straight and her black bangs shading her face ominously. This was the woman Bobby had told him about. The one that was shown to other hunters, other people. He realized how lucky he was, that he had seen the woman beneath. And how stupid that he reversed it.

"Dean," No Batman. Dean. And her voice wasn't soft and caring. This was not a sharing and caring moment. This was a hunter. A pissed off and angry hunter. "I am not a tag along. I'm not someone you need to protect. I am a hunter. I have been for a long time," her words were slow and quiet, and he figured that was the worst way she could say this. "You…Dean…you are not my father. You cannot tell me what to do." Each word was carefully enunciated.

Dean almost told her. Almost said exactly what he wasn't supposed to. Instead he went low. "Not like you know who that is," he snorted sarcastically.

If it was possible, her face hardened further. The soft planes of her face looked to be made of stone.

"You're right. I don't. But that doesn't mean I can't do my job," she said between clenched teeth. She knew he thought he was protecting her. But the truth was, her demon was dead, and she had very little left to fight for. She was upset. Her body stiff and unmoving, in a tank top and cotton shorts. But she knew his heart was in the right place.

"I've been doing this a helluva a lot longer than you, Angel!" He bit back. Then he froze. He. Should. Not. Have. Said. That.

She was moving now at least. Her whole body was shaking, violently. Her eyes were wide with pain and fear and disbelief. A part of her wasn't there anymore. It was reliving every thing that had ever happened to her in the warehouse. She broke out in a light sweat, feeling the heat. She heard his voice, calling her. Over and over and over again.

'Angel's bleeding. Why does Angel bleed? You're blood is so pretty my Angel. I want to see more of it.'

Dean wasn't Alistair. But at that moment, her mind could not separate the two. Her heart, on the other hand, was so consumed by hurt and pain that it didn't want to. She saw Dean reach out for her, agony and regret written on his features.

Kat jerked back, away from his hand, fear and hurt mixing in her eyes. He let his hand fall away from her, his eyes pooling with tears. He felt like a monster. He felt his own memories rush back to him. He saw himself standing over the helpless, blade in hand, the fires of Hell burning around him, in him. He saw himself carve into his first victim, disgust making him retch. Then he saw the years he had done it, and how he had come to enjoy it. How he enjoyed peeling flesh from bone, and cracking open rib cages.

He was still that man. He would always be that man. And now Kat knew that. Maybe it was better that way. Maybe that way she would stay away from him. Maybe she would be safe from him.

Then he saw her first tear. He had seen her cry before. But he had never caused it. He felt something inside himself break as she let the drop of salty-water roll down her pale cheek. He tried to say something, but nothing would come out. Because nothing he could say would change anything.

She turned her back on him, showcasing her wounds. Her trademark. Her proof. He had been doing this job longer than she, but she had been dying slowly. She had been brought to the brink of sanity and survived. And he had just belittled that. Had cast it down like it was nothing. And pushed the name back at her.

The one thing that was obviously off-limits. The name was beyond taboo. And he let it slip form his mouth. He hadn't meant to, of course. He simply thought of her like that. His angel. He meant it as satirical. Because she was constantly sacrificing herself for them.

He watched her pick up her two duffel bags. He watched her slip on a pair of shoes. He watched her finger-brush her hair. And he watched her walk out the door.

And he didn't stop her.


	60. Chapter 60

**Bonsoir, my little minions! You make me soooo happy. This one is extremely short and extremely emotional. I have never ever ever, broken down like my character is here, so feedback is beyond important. I need it for this chapter. I love you guys! This is my last update today. I'll try and do a few tomorrow. Love! –Han**

She went down to the front desk, her shoulders shaking. She was forcing herself to keep it together. Forcing herself to wall it off. Until she was alone.

"What can I do for you?" the old man behind the counter asked. He took in her appearance and smiled softly. "He'll realize what he's done soon enough," he said softly.

"I think he…he already has. I j-just need some time alone," she whispered. She unzipped her duffel, and pulled out the wad of bills in the interior zip pocket. Because she only put money in her bra when she had just won it, because she knew it dug further into a man's ego. The old man turned her money away.

"We have a room we keep free on the left end. Entrance is on the side of the building," he said, handing her the key. Kat smiled, amazed at the kindness of some people.

"Thank you, so much," she whispered. She went to her room, and set down her bags. She made it to the edge of the bed before kneeling, and crumbling. Her whole body shook as she cried, the gut-wrenching, dry-heaving kind of sobs. She felt like she could not breathe, and that she was chocking on what air she did collect.

A voice in the back of her mind told her that it would be better if she did die. That way she would stop hurting. And she would stop hurting other people too. She would no longer see the pain and grief in peoples eyes when they looked at her. Like she was already dead.

The voice told her that the world would be no different. That Team Free Will could win the war without her. That the world would benefit from her death. And she believed it.

She believed that her existence meant nothing. She always had. But she had also managed to convince herself that she could at least help people. And Dean had managed to convince her that she wasn't even good at that.

She didn't know how long she cried for. If it was minutes or hours or hell, days even. She just continued to break. Her soul shattering all over again and she felt like she was still under Alistair's mercy. She felt his biting, sugar-coated words cut into her skin again. She felt her back sear with pain and the white-hot intensity of his brands. She felt his knives. His saws. His brands. His hands. All over her. She felt the agony of the dark magic that put her back together, over and over and over again, until he liked the scars.

At some point during it all, she had changed from kneeling to being curled in the fetal position on her floor. Her knees touched her chin and her hands were fisted in her hair. She thought she felt a few be pulled out, and small drops of blood forming. She knew her face was contorted and flushed dark red, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Her stomach ached with the shudders and her ribs protested the position.

Her head only pounded harder as the seemingly never-ending flow of tears continued. She jerked at every noise, even cars outside, her body terrified of pain. At that moment, every being in the universe was out to hurt her, and her fragmented psyche could not handle it. Her mind was crumbling under the pressure, opened by Dean. Flooding her body with irrational fear and memories. There was no way to stop it, no way to end it.

So, she rode it out. Allowing her body to break to the most strenuous moment, until her tears dried and the dry-heaving began. She leaned up, bracing her weight on her arms, and tried to stand, to at least make it the bathroom. But her arms shook and collapsed. Her face hit the carpet and she coughed, trying to find a way to breathe. Finally, she raised her head again and crawled to the bathroom, gripping the toilet with all the strength she had. The heaving made her throat burn and she wished she would just throw up already. Just to get it over with.

Kat slumped against the off-white tub, in exhaustion. She couldn't move, not anymore. She could only feel the soul-deep weariness that urged her to sleep. And she was even afraid of that. She stood, her legs wobbly and unsteady, but she forced them to support her. She salted the room, and drew the devils trap. Finally, grabbing her gun and a knife, and curling up in a ball on the bed.

She thought the tears were gone. But as soon as she realized that Dean wasn't going to enable her to sleep, they ran free again. The silent kind, that let your face look calm and normal. The only thing that gave you away were the tracks of wetness. They showed the kind of soul deep pain that sobs could never convey. They showed the broken thing within. The dead thing.


	61. Chapter 61

**Whoops! Thanks to angeleyenc for informing me of my mishap. I am technologically challenge. As a reward…The REAL 61. Enjoy! Love –Han**

The angel flew in, his eyes wide and frenzied. He had appeared to Dean and seen the man sharpening a knife while salt-water streamed from his jade green eyes. He had looked for her, but she was not there. He could sense her nearby, but she wasn't in the room with him.

When he did find her, he stopped short. She had sat up sharply at the sound of his wings, pointing a gun at his head. When she saw it was him, the hysterical fear in her eyes did not fade, and her weapon remained raised. Her eyes were still flooded, and Cas flinched from what he felt.

Nothing.

He could sense the emotional onslaught that had occurred in the room. The assault of feeling still ruminated in the it, and it was so strong, he felt it too. He felt the pain and sorrow and grief and sheer agony.

But from her, there was nothing. Just an empty shell of fear. She was the same as she had been the day she was saved. And Castiel had no idea what to do. So he dropped to his knees and prayed in Enochian for her. She lowered the gun when he dropped, some recess of her mind concluding that he was not a threat. She fell back into her huddle on the sheets and kept crying, while an angel kept vigil.

When Sam opened the door he knew something was wrong. He could cut the tension in the room with a knife, even if Dean was the only one there. His older, invincible brother looked up, his eyes red and shinning.

And Sam thought that the apocalypse had concluded. Had thought that the whole world was going to die and they couldn't stop it. Had thought that everything they'd ever fought for was ruined. When his brother opened his mouth, Sam was already looking for Kat. But saw neither her, nor her bags. His mind was racing, running along its logically thinking track to reach any plausible destination.

"She left," he croaked. Dean's voice was rough and rusty, like he had not used it in weeks.

"What?" Sam's voice was vacant of everything. There was no indication he was thinking anything. But the track of his mind veered. Rejection. Abandonment. Lies. She had lied. She left him alone, after promising to be there for him? She hadn't even said goodbye.

"I…I screwed up, man. I-I really screwed up." Sam had never heard his brother that broken. The self hatred was etched into his face and the line of his body. It was bad enough that she had sacrificed herself for him, now he had hurt her. Badly. So badly it made him want to die. And he definitely didn't want to do that again.

"What happened, Dean?" Sam asked. Dean flinched at the sound of his name. His eyes pleading with Sam to understand.

"I…slipped. I tried to explain to her…that she didn't have to sacrifice anything for us. Because we would be brought back, y'know?" He asked, looking up at Sam, hopefully. Sam nodded his understanding. "It…it got heated. And I threw it in her face!" He screamed suddenly. Sam jumped, backing away from him slightly. "I acted like it never happened. Her torture. And...I called her Angel," he whispered.

Sam opened his mouth in shock and stuttered to understand. Understand why his brother would do it.

"I didn't mean it that way! Dammit! I...I think of her like that," he said, his head dropping.

"What do you mean?" His voice was softer now.

"The things….she says…are always the things…I need to hear. She…she's like an angel to me. The only one I really trust. Even Cas has his moments…but she…she'll always be on the right side," he said slowly, as if it pained him to say it out loud. Because out loud meant real, and real meant it could hurt.

Sam was quiet. He had never known his brother to willingly volunteer his feelings. He sat down heavily on the bed, staring at the opposite one. Kat should be there. Smiling like the child she was on the inside. Playing the buffer for his and his brother's relationship.

"She…she'll come back. I know she will," Sam said. "She just needs time."

"I know. But I can't stop thinking about it. I can't believe I was so stupid!" He said suddenly, plunging the knife into the wooden table. His hand gripped his jaw, his eyes shut tightly.

"It's okay, Dean."

"No. It isn't."

Castiel watched his charge writhe and cry on the bed, still on top of the blankets. He could see her nightmare, but did not have enough power to soothe her. He could only watch, powerless, as her memories played like a movie. He felt the guilt crush him again, but he forced himself into rising from his position of prayer. He moved to her and pressed his hand to her cheek, trying to offer her something.

She shrank back, at first, but he held still. Her warm hand pressed to her still wet cheeks and he thought she was stilling. But then she jerked forwards, a raw scream tearing from her throat. Not loud enough to alert any of the other tenants, but it still cut deeply into him. He wished he never had to hear such a noise again. It frightened him beyond anything else.

When her eyes cleared she sought out his eyes, and he knew she was disappointed. She wanted, needed, to meet jade green. But instead blue was reflected at her. She looked at him, her eyes pleading. He sank into the bed, sitting perfectly still as she curled into his lap. Her upper body rested against him and he was vaguely aware that her tears were making dark patches on his trench coat.

He held her the best he could, laying an arm across her back. His other hand cupped her cheek, his thumb rubbing away the tears he could reach. She offered him a watery smile, and he felt hope. Maybe she was moving past this. This emotional turmoil that made the angel sick to his stomach. But he still felt the emptiness inside of her.

When she had regained some form of control she sat back up. And he saw the hunter she had become. The softness of her gaze had been drawn away, replaced with the stone of self-preservation. What had happened here was a one-tome event, and the angel would never witness it again, of that much, he was sure. She would never let him see her that broken again.

Kat felt nothing. It was like when she was alone. There was nothing but this empty fear, the only thing that kept her going. The idea that her life could be taken from her, her control. She fought for self-assurance with coldness and calculated moves. She pulled away from the angel, giving him a soft smile. She was still good at that. Acting. She always had been, but she was still surprised at Cas's look of hope. She did not mean to give him hope. She meant to convey her gratitude.

She stood slowly, peeling herself from the bed and forcing herself to stand tall. She wanted to succumb to tears again, because it was easier. Instead she looked at Castiel and inclined her head.

"I'll be going to the Roadhouse. Find a few hunts. Get away for a while," she said, moving to grab clothes.

"I understand," he said softly. He did understand. He understood that Dean had broken what was so strong with a sentence. He understood that though Kat knew Dean had not meant it. That in his mind, it was different. But he also understood that she could not be around him just then. She needed time.

She nodded and walked towards the bathroom as Castiel flew away. This time, as she settled beneath the warm spray, she neither glanced at her scars, nor sang. There was nothing inside of her to sing about. Nothing to lift off. Just pain and emptiness.

Her scars were no longer marks of pride, but shame. Because now she thought of every little thing that had ever been done to her. Because she felt the pain as if it were new.


	62. Chapter 62

**HI HI HI HI HI! I am updating again! Okie Dokie, let's GO!**

She dressed in jeans, a Go Army shirt, and scuffed boots. She slipped a knife into the right boot, and tucked her gun into the waist band of her jeans. She brushed her hands and through her hair and applied black eye liner. She took in her appearance with grim satisfaction. She looked like the scary hunter she used to be. The one nobody messed with.

She slung her duffels over her shoulder and meandered down to the front desk, thanking the old man, and walking down the street. When she found a car she liked, a GT Mustang, she boosted it quickly, leaving a note telling the owner they could find it by the shack that used to house her weapons. She settled behind the wheel and sighed at the feel of the humming engine. She wished it were deeper, more animal…but Dean had that car. And as much as she hated him at that moment, she would never take away his car. She figured that was because she didn't hate him.

She was afraid. Afraid of what he could do to her with just a glance, a sentence, a comment. Afraid of how much she needed him.

She wasn't leaving because she hated him. She was leaving to assure some part of herself that she could still live on her own. Could still battle the demons of the world and demons of her mind. Could still stand on her own.

So she drove, loosing herself in the never ending asphalt beneath her. When her thoughts strayed to thoughts of green-eyed hunters and soft smiles, she shook her head and focused on the road. She sat in silence for another hour, until her phone rang. She picked it up lazily, forcing herself not to care who was on the other end.

"Kat?" the worried and strained voice said.

"Sam?" her voice was dead, even to her own ears.

"Oh, Thank God! Dean and I were freaking out! Where are you?" he said it all rushed and hurried, as if afraid she would just hang up.

"I stole a car. I'm fine. I'm sorry I worried you. I need some time," she said in short clipped sentences.

"You stole a car?" She could hear Dean's shocked 'No way' in the background.

"Like you haven't done it before," she said sarcastically.

"Alright, fine. Where are you going?" he asked.

When she didn't answer he sighed heavily. She could sense his defeat. "I just need to know you'll be okay. We have no intention of following you," he said tiredly. She realized that he hadn't slept last night, just by the depth of his exhaustion.

"Roadhouse," she said quietly. "I'll be okay Sam. But I have to do this."

"Okay. Call me when you get there." This was his feeble attempt at keeping her close. Maybe if he talked to her enough, she would come back. Come home.

"I will. I love you guys," she said softly. She said it because she knew he needed the reassurance. "And I'll be back. I'm not giving up on you," she assured. She could hear Sam's exhale of relief.

"Thank you. We love you too," he said sincerely. She hung up, shifting into the seat. She had only half lied. She was coming back. But love was beyond her. She could say that she loved Sam, like a brother. Like a friend. But Dean…she didn't know what he was to her. Couldn't define it. And couldn't label it. So she did not love him. She…she didn't think there was a word for how she felt. And that was okay.

She drove for hours, never stopping. Until she reached the old shack that used to house her arsenal. She ditched the car, and shouldered her bags. The walk wasn't that long. It only took about fifteen minutes of mindless walking, one foot in front of the other, until a car offered her a ride. The man was in his forties, blonde and thick. He wanted a good night, she wanted a ride.

She got in a told him the Salvage Yard. And he took her, making cheap small talk on the way. She offered him lazy smiles when he looked doubtful and kept him engaged when she had to. But her mind was floating beyond her. Striving to ignore the constant reminders of Dean.

The driver had a ring, much like the one Dean wore. The car was a small roadster, nothing at all like the powerful engine of the impala. His eyes were a dull flat green, nothing like the jade-shot-gold of Dean's.

When he dropped her off, it was three something in the morning. He gave her a wide smile and she tried to return it.

"You stay safe now," he said, before driving away. She was surprised he didn't ask for more of her. Maybe he was just lonely. She meandered to the dilapidated house before her and knocked.

The door was answered and she was met with the barrel of a shot gun. He took in her appearance, seeing the coldness in her eyes and the lingering redness there. He sighed and ushered her inside.

"What did they do?" He growled.

"Dean just said something that got to me," she whispered, knowing it would be futile to lie to him. "I just need some time. I came by to let you know what was happening and to get my bike," she said cringing at the anger she knew was coming.

"You are not running off again! I will force you to stay if I have to, but you are not gonna go MIA on me!"

"I wasn't planning to. I'm going to the Roadhouse, spend some time with Ash. I don't want you to worry about me," she said softly, kissing his cheek.

"Fine. I want daily calls. And you don't get to complain when I beat that little bitch," he sneered. Bobby was pissed. Beyond all rational thought. He had given that boy one rule. One. Do not hurt her. That was it. And that stupid little…he didn't even have a word bad enough. He was hoping they would pay him a visit soon…so he could pop a cap in someone's ass.

"I promise. Bye Bobby," she said, turning and heading out into the dark. She found her bike and mounted it, feeling the engine beneath her. She gunned it, rushing out of the Salvage Yard and out onto the road.

She made it the Roadhouse an hour later. It was a testament to the new owner ship that there were still people there. When she walked in, her duffels on her shoulder and her helmet dangling from her fingers, the twenty or so people all looked at her.

"Hey, Kat's back!" One man shouted. She smiled predatorily. Theses people knew her because she was good for business and if you got on her good side, she might even let you win a hand at poker.

At the shout, Ash stumbled out of his office and smiled at her. The smile faded quickly when he took in her eyes. Something was wrong. He stumbled over to her and gazed at her with a half-drunk half-sober kind of intensity.

"What happened?"

"Dean," she said softly, already tired of explaining it. He didn't ask anything else, just reached over the bar and handed her a bottle of whiskey. He took her bags and helmet and walked back into his office. She followed him, taking a draw from the bottle. She wished she could get drunk. Real drunk.

The most she could get was a comfortable warmth. The real reason she drank was simply because it dulled the physical pain. The emotional was just as raw and cruel, but flesh wounds didn't hurt so much. When she drank, she couldn't feel the pull and twinge of her scars when she moved. And it dulled recent pains. And her ribs were a bitch tonight.

"How did you even get here?" he asked, crashing onto his couch.

"Stole a car." She blinked at Ash's concerned look. "I left a note!"

"Uhuh. How long you plannin' on bein' here?"

"As long as it takes for me to convince myself I can be on my own," she replied honestly. Ash wouldn't judge her. He would see it for what it was and respect it. He always had.

"It's not bad to depend on other people," he said quietly.

"It is when you're me," she responded, sitting next to him. It was quiet for a long time after that, as they sat in the half light of his office. She curled her legs underneath her body and drank heavily from her bottle.

"Hey Kat?"

"Yea Ash?"

"I'm real sorry Jo shot you," he said softly.

"It's okay. No harm no foul…wait...that's not right," she said cheekily. There was harm. There was a foul. Ash laughed at her and she just drank in response.

"I stopped talkin' to her when she called you a bitch," he informed her, his twange prominent.

"You didn't have to do that. I know how close you are," she said gently.

"Nah. She's kinda a bitch," he grumbled as Kat giggled. "And no one screws with you. No one." Ash's voice was deadly and calm. His accent did nothing to diminish the obvious threat in his voice.

"Don't get too mad at Dean. He didn't mean to," she said softly. If Bobby was going to chew him out, Ash didn't need it too.

"I'll do whatever the hell I want to missy!"

She smirked and nodded. She laid out on the couch, laying her head in Ash's lap and tried to sleep. She had been getting so many full nights that she could no longer operate on the mere three to five hours she used to obtain. She had not slept for longer than an hour in almost two days. She needed the sleep.

Ash watched her eyes close and knew they would open again in a few short hours, pleading for salvation. He was going to fucking kill Dean. He had known the man long enough to know that he hadn't meant to hurt her. If anything, he'd said something that sounded perfectly fine in his own head. But he had known Kat much longer. And he would do anything to protect her.

He stood from the couch, setting her head on a pillow and grabbed his phone, walking outside. It was dark and cool and no one was around. He dialed and waited.

"Yea?" The voice on the other end was thick with exhaustion. He hadn't slept.

"Dean," he started coolly. "What the _hell _did you do?" He screamed.

"Dammit! I know I screwed up! Trust me, I know!" he shouted.

"And what are you going to do about it?" Ash asked in a deadly voice.

"I don't fucking know! I haven't slept since she left. I can't think straight. All I can do is drink. Sam won't even let me drive the car. He's not even talking to me anymore, he's so pissed. Bobby's already promised to kick my ass and I miss her! I just wanted to get it through her goddammed thick skull that she had to stop jumping in front of bullets for us!"

Ash was quiet a long time. Just thinking over it all. "You have two weeks. She won't show up before then. But you think of anything you can to win her over. Do what ever you can. And I'll only break your nose."

"I guess that's all I can ask for. And Ash?"

"Yea?"

"Please tell her I'm sorry. So so sorry." His voice broke and shook. Ash sighed heavily. He had known Dean a long time. And even when his father died, his voice never broke. He was strong.

"Fine. But I'm still going to break your nose," he said, hanging up. He sighed and walked back inside in time to see Kat jolt awake, her eyes frantically looking for someone. Someone who wasn't there. She really had it in for the boy. Even if she didn't know it.

He sighed, and walked into his room, crashing on the cot-like bed and letting sleep overtake him. He knew Kat wouldn't go back to sleep, and was not surprised when he woke up and found her cleaning the bar.

She paused to take a draw of whiskey and continued wiping down the tables. He watched her move, elegance and grace. She was deadly. A weapon of Earth, of flesh. He wondered what exactly Dean had said, that made her break. Because she was unbreakable. To him, anyway.


	63. Chapter 63

**I really wanted to thank Bernad-at, your comment was incredibly nice and sweet. I do work really hard on this and the fact that you appreciate it means a lot to me. I have one more chapter today, and this one took forever. Dean is a hard guy to write for. Thanks to all the readers! If you review, I'll love you forever and ever ;).**

** -Han**

Dean did not know that his beard would be ginger. But he did now. He had not shaved in the five days she had been gone. Nor had he stopped drinking. The whiskey was practically glued to his hand and his eyes were never clear. The redness consumed him, in a bleary haze of pain. She had left. His arms were empty and his head was frenzied with thoughts. He wished with all he had that he had kept his mouth shut.

He just wanted her to understand. That she didn't have to be a martyr for him. Never for him. He wanted her to understand how much she meant to him. Even though he didn't quite know. He wanted her to believe that he cared for her. That she was more important than him. That she was worth more than him.

Sam sat tense in the drivers seat, he had not spoken to Dean since the morning in the motel when she had left. He didn't completely blame Dean, but he was so angry. He had broken something so unbreakable. And he was just laying there.

Dean couldn't bring himself to move, to follow her. He missed her, more than he thought possible, but he knew going now would only make it worse. If he went now, she might never come back. Come home.

Of course, it was no longer a home to Dean. Every motel, every stop, his car, was his home. But not since she left. Now it was just emptiness and cold. He shifted in his seat and turned up the radio, trying to drown out thoughts of her and the tension between him and his brother.

" _she paints her eyes as black as night now  
>pulls those shades down tight<br>yeah she gives a smile when the pain comes  
>the pain gonna make everything alright<em>

_says she talks to angels  
>they call her out by her name<br>oh yeah, she talks to angels  
>says they call her out by her name"<em>

"Of fuck it!" he screamed, slamming his hand down on the radio. He felt his heart beat rise at the thought of her. He saw her black ringed eyes, the blue in stark contrast. He saw the smiles she gave when he knew she was consumed by pain. She _did_ talk to angels. And God yes, they knew her name.

He felt water leak out of his eyes and cursed his weakness. He hadn't cried this much since Sam had died in front of him. How had this girl planted herself into his mind, into his heart. He felt her presence in his soul. Like they were linked. He knew she didn't hate him, and he thanked every god under the sun and moon for that. Because she should hate him. With all of her being. As much as he hated himself.

But she didn't. He knew she didn't. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he did. He knew she needed the time to realize she could still be on her own. And he hoped with every fiber of his being that she realized she still needed him. Like she said she did. Like he needed her.

His head hit the rest and he looked out to the fast moving trees to the left of him. The moon was shining down on him and he remembered how beautiful her skin was in this light. It would glow and shine and he thought she looked almost transparent. He remembered how brightly her eyes would shine when she would peek at him through her dark lashes. That was only when she thought he was asleep.

He sighed and let his eyes close. He didn't do it often, but he prayed. Prayed for her to come back to him. Prayed to have the strength to ask her to.

He hated asking for things. As a hunter he took what he needed and he made do on nothing. He never asked for money, for love, for a reprieve from his duties. But he would have to ask for her to come back to them. Otherwise she would assume he didn't want her there, and he wanted her with him. He needed her next to him.

He twisted and looked in the backseat, wishing she were there. He looked over the seat, seeing the unopened package of Gummie Bears Sam had bought for her while he was out. And the blue sketch book she had left, almost unseen, tucked beneath the seat. He pulled it to him, opening to the first page. He let his eyes travel the drawings, the elegant lines of charcoal and graphite, the subtle colors and fine details. Sam glanced at each fleetingly, trying to keep his eyes on the road.

When he reached the string of sketches of Castiel, he smiled. They were so perfect, capturing the angel's innocence and intelligence. He wished she knew how alike they were. He kept going, seeing the reoccurring images of his car. She loved it as much as he did. It made a watery smile grace his bearded face.

Then the ones of him.

Dean knew he was attractive. Knew women liked him. But through her eyes, he was beautiful. The curve of his eyes and lips, the shading of his face. They were all so perfect. He had never been that perfect. But she saw him that way. He let out a shaky sigh. He had really screwed up.

He just hoped that when she was ready, she would come home to him.


	64. Chapter 64

**AWWWW! You guys are awesome! Xxmaskedchickxx you never fail to make me smile! I am incredibly awed that I made you actually cry. You have no idea how much that means to me as a writer! Bernad-at, you are so nice! Gah! I love you guys!**

** Okay, now the beautiful thing about Dean and Kat, is they don't mess around. So let's get this thing going!**

It took two weeks. Two weeks of resolutely ignoring the terror that gripped her when she realized he was not beside her. Two weeks of pushing herself to the brink of exhaustion, only sleeping on hour or so a night. Two weeks of hunt after hunt, finishing them fast and dirty. Two weeks of fresh wounds and cheap fixes. Two weeks of missing him for her to admit that she wanted him back.

She was asleep. For the first time in twenty-three hours.

She saw Alistair approach her, his eyes alight with glee. He had just bound the wounds he did not like with dark magic. Forcing her skin to knit back together, leaving no signs of the torture she had just endured. He stalked to her, running his hands along the length of her body, prodding at the wounds he had left. The scars he would enjoy.

He smiled, a terrifying shadow of a thing, and leaned his face to hers. She jerked away. Closing her eyes and mouth, knowing what he would do. He would invade her beyond the physical.

Alistair laughed, placing his hands on either side of her face. The black smoke clawed its way out of his current host, who dropped to the floor. His mind had been too warped by the evil of the demon to function. He was dead. The smoke hovered above her face, taunting her for a moment, before pushing its way into her mouth, forcing it open.

Kat's back arched on the table, her eyes opening. The empty chasm of blackness spread through them, clouding the blue. In her mind she fought him, drawing on strength she didn't have. She could feel him mocking her, as he invaded her mind. He wormed his way into her memories, altering things that were too happy or sweet. He maliciously preyed on her deepest fears and doubts. Drawing knew ideas for his torture.

He learned that she no longer cared for herself. Only for the three people she had to protect. He grinned wolfishly, he could change that.

Kat gasped awake, her body trembling. She couldn't take much more of this. This used to be her life, living in and out of reality. Succumbing to her memories every night and facing the nightmares of the world during the day. But Dean had changed her. He had given her a life she thought she would never get to have. And without him, she was lost. Falling into the gaps in her mind, into the darkness of her marred soul.

Her hands shook as they ran through her hair. She needed a drink. She showered, dressed and walked into the bar. The Roadhouse was packed and she was a predator. She categorized each person. People she would play at poker. People she would intimidate. People she would serve liquor. People she would flirt with over pool to distract them. People she would drink with. And people she would avoid.

There were touchy men, ones who didn't know her well enough to be afraid. There were friendly old men, with weather worn faces and sweet smiles. They liked to drink with her, and swap stories of their hunts. There were women dressed like prostitutes that glared at her for the attention she unknowingly stole.

She did not know that men watched her with lust in their eyes. She thought it was calculated interest. But the single (and some married) men watched the sway of her hips and the way her hair floated from her face. She was a pale, elfish beauty. Refined in ways that shouldn't exist and ruff in places no one knew could be so appealing. They could see the way her lips curved in that half-smirk and wished they could capture them with their own. They could see the way her eyes would light up when she smiled at Ash or men in faded brown leather jackets. They could see the way she unconsciously swayed to the music that flowed from the jukebox. They could see the way her fingers would wrap around the neck of the whiskey and could see the calluses they held.

She may not have known these things about herself, but the men of the Roadhouse did.

She was playing friendly cards with a group of kind older hunters in their fifties. Smiling at their jokes and sharing some of her own. They were soft to her, because they had seen her eyes. The raw pain was masked well, but hunters made it their lives to read faces. They could see how much she had changed from the last time they had played a hand. She appreciated their concern for her, and tried her best to prove she was okay.

They played for an hour or so, watching her empty her bottle of whiskey. They thought they saw her change, when the two famous hunters walked in the door. Her back was to them, but her shoulders lost their tension and her eyes seemed to soften. She won the hand, as they knew she would, and paid for their next round of drinks.

Kat didn't know why her body eased. But it made the muscles in her neck and back loosen and a breathy sigh escaped her lips. She downed another shot, feeling the warmth spread through her body.

She felt the hardness in her face smooth out, the tough exterior melting away. Her eyes slid closed. She felt a real smile work its way onto her mouth without her her mission, as a warm hand came down on her shoulder.

**Ouch! My first bad review! My heart kinda hurts…is that normal?**


	65. Chapter 65

**Okay so my first bad review kinda got to me and I'm not super confident in my writing right now, but here's what I got. Enjoy! Feedback is loved. –Han**

**(to answer the questions in the review, **

** -I kept Ash alive because he's awesome.**

** -She said over a year for a reason. It was closer to two. Sorry if my timeline isnt perfect**

** -her badassness isn't a silly joke or anything. If you've read it you know why she doesn't use anathesia, and as for the bike and the rock. I like them ~shrugs~ it is my character. Not yours.**

** -I like to think I've developed my characters as I've gone. Whether you like them in the first four chapters or not.**

** Please Review! I need my mojo back. ~sniffle~)**

Dean had been slowly going insane. First it was the drunken depression. That he could handle. That had happened before. Then it was the crippling nightmares. Jarring images of Kat's body being torn limb from limb by Lucifer, while he was chained by Michael. Those made him afraid of the waking world and Sam would glance at him oddly when he jumped at loud noises. Then it was the crushing loneliness. His arms were always empty. He had resorted to cuddling a pillow to try and fool his unconscious mind into believing she was there. But the cheap cotton didn't mold to his body, didn't fit perfectly in his arms.

And last, was the fear. He was afraid all the time. Not of any physical thing, or supernatural being. He was terrified that she would run from him. That when he went to beg her forgiveness, she would turn away.

When Sam had finally had enough, Dean thought he was going to explode. His brother had pulled his car to the shoulder of the road. He still hadn't been allowed to drive it. Sam turned to Dean and fixed him with a hard stare.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he demanded. He hadn't getting much sleep, but it was more than Dean had. He had nightmares, but Dean's caused his older brother to convulse in fits and cry out hoarsely in the night.

"What do you think?" Dean said sluggishly. He just didn't care to put up a front anymore. His beard was thick and red and his eyes were constantly bloodshot.

"You know she'll come back!" Sam had to believe that much.

"You don't get it."

"What? What don't I get?"

Dean sighed and scrubbed away the tears. "Do you think…for a second…that I can live with myself…knowing that I did that to her? If the world wasn't ending I would have self-destructed by now," he said harshly, self-hatred pouring into his voice.

"She's a strong woman. She's okay," Sam said in denial.

"Yea. That's the point Sam! I fucking broke her! How do I fix that? How do I pretend like nothing happened?"

"You don't. You tell her how much you regret it and you tell her the truth about the mess you are when she's not there and you get her the fuck back! Because I love her like a sister and I'm not letting her run away because you opened your mouth!" Sam finally screamed.

Dean flinched and sighed. It had been a week and six days. He could act tomorrow. He nodded mutely to Sam and started planning.

When he walked in to the Roadhouse the next night, he was clean shaven and sober. His clothes were fresh and his guns were clean. He nodded to Sam, who meandered toward the jukebox, wishing Dean had a better plan. He flipped to the song Dean requested, and selecting it, sitting back to watch.

He had watched his brother break the past two weeks. Wasting away until he was unrecognizable. He prayed this would work.

The old men expected her to jerk away from the touch. Not lean into it. But she did. Kat smothered her smile, putting on an unaffected face. She would hide her happiness, her elation. She was supposed to be upset with him. He couldn't know that she had forgiven him the moment she drove away. He couldn't know that she had stayed away out of a futile attempt to retain her pride. He couldn't know that she had been waiting for him to come to her.

She turned easily towards him, letting her eyes say hello. He grinned at her impishly, glad that she had not turned him away.

He held out his hand, as the first chords rang through the juke box. She inclined her head and let him lead her to the makeshift dance floor. Her arm hummed with the electricity of his touch and she felt her body's want to arch into him.

He pulled her body carefully against his, sighing in content as she fit against him. Her arms locked around his neck, her head against his chest. Her small frame was engulfed by his broad shoulders and his arms wound around her back. There was no space between them, every contour of their bodies against each other.

Dean swayed her back and forth to the music, moving a hand to cup her face. When the singing started, he leaned down to whisper the words in her ear. He wanted her to convey the truth he felt.

"She's got a smile that seems to me,

Reminds me of childhood memories

Where everything was fresh as the bright blue sky,"

He whispered against her, the raw timbre of his voice forcing chills down her spine. She wanted to look into those jade green eyes, but held herself back. Knowing she would melt if she did.

"Now and then when I see her face

She takes me away to that special place,

And if I stand too long, I'd probably break down and cry."

His voice broke slightly, and he pulled her closer. They were no longer swaying. Just wrapped in their own world. Her eyes were wide with fascination as she listened to his deep voice, drip like honey to her heart. She felt like a child, seeing the sunset for the first time with a clear memory.

"Whoa, oh oh, sweet child o' mine,

Whoa, oh, oh, sweet love of mine."

She knew he didn't mean real love. She knew he meant the kind of love that only people on the edge of the Earth could feel. The desperate attempt to care for one another on a primal level. One that had nothing to do with desire or matters of the heart.

"She's got eyes of the bluest skies,

As if they thought of rain.

I'd hate to look into those eyes

And see an ounce of pain." He pulled back to look into her eyes, his pleading her to believe him. Hers were trained on him, drinking in the beautiful green-gold color. She could feel the worry and pain and compassion, just by looking into them. He meant it. It would kill him if she didn't come back. He was silently telling her that he needed her. Her arms moved to around his waist, crawling up to the planes of his back to grip the back his collar.

She pressed her face into his chest, closing her eyes and sniffing softly. She felt his head rest on hers, his cheek against her hair.

"I'm sorry, Kat," he said in a voice that made him sound like a little boy. "I never meant to hurt you. I care about you to much. I'll never hurt you again." She thought she felt wetness on her head and snuggled into him.

"Thank you, Dean. Thank you so much."

"For what?" He sounded confused and scared.

"For coming to take me home," she said smiling. Her eyes were teary, but shinning with content. "I want to come home."

Dean exhaled. His body releasing tension that had been built up in the two weeks she had been gone. "Are you sure?" He had to ask. Had to know she was doing this because she wanted to.

"Positive, Batman," she said smirking. She leaned back, so she could stretch up and press a kiss to his cheek. Dean was smiling. A real honest to God smile. She had called him Batman. Things would be okay. Before he could get himself carried away, he looked at her carefully.

"I'm no good with words. That's usually Sam's thing," he paused. "But I want you to know…that I meant it when I said you can't keep sacrificing yourself for us. The angels want me alive. The demons want Sam. They'll keep bringing us back. But you…you're worth more than both of us and no one will bring you back. Don't make me watch you almost die again," he pleaded.

"I won't. But you remember I can kick your ass any day of the week," she chided. She was going to blatantly ignore what he had called her. Forget about it, because it wasn't going to affect her. She wasn't going to let it.

"Understood. Ready to get the hell outta dodge?" he asked, wanting to get behind the wheel again.

She nodded and he stopped. "Oh. Two more things," he whispered. He walked to Sam who gave him what he needed and returned to Kat quickly. He presented her with the blue sketch book. "I looked through it. You see me wrong."

"What do you mean?" she asked, looking at him carefully.

"I'm not the perfect…hell…beautiful guy you drew. I'm an asshole bastard sonofabitch that doesn't deserve to have met you," he said calmly. "But you don't see yourself at all. I fixed that," he said cheekily.

She flipped to the last page she had drawn on and went one ahead of that. And there she was. Her vibrant blue eyes reflected at her, her hair falling around her face in soft messy waves. Her lips were parted in a half-smile, her pointy canines in view.

"You see me like this?" She asked in awe. The drawing was beautiful. She couldn't look like that.

"I snuck a picture of you about a week after you started on the road. Found a guy that did portraits. Described what he couldn't see clearly on the phone," he said, blushing faintly.

"But you see me like this?" She asked again.

"Well…yea. How else would I see you?"

She didn't answer. Just hugged him closer and laughed lightly. A carefree kind of thing. When she looked back up, Dean was grinning, offering her a bag of Gummie Bears. She smiled like the child she was at heart and grabbed them, eager to eat their small gummie heads.

She stepped back and smiled at Sam, showing him everything was okay. Without a word, he stepped forward, crushing her into a bear hug, lifting her off the floor with the force of it.

"Don't scare me like that again," he pleaded. "Dean was a train wreck. I wasn't much better."  
>"I'm glad to be back," she whispered. She detached herself from him, moving to kiss Ash goodbye and grab her things. She left him the helmet.<p>

"Take care of her for me," she told him, smiling. "You might need her later."

"I won't let the drunk guys wreck it. Me included," he said smiling goofily. When her face turned hard and bitter he shifted nervously, "She'll be safe with me, Kat. Don't you worry," he said seriously.

"I better not have to," she said in a low voice. He nodded vigorously and she hugged him. "Bye guys!" She shouted to the bar. She was met by hearty goodbyes. The loudest from her poker buddies, who had just watched the deepest transformation they had ever seen. They had watched her eyes soften and fill with emotions hunters knew as nameless, beautiful, and terrifying. They had watched the famous Winchester hold her close, like he could not breathe with out her. They had watched him whisper in her ear and rest his head against hers. They had watched their friend come to life.

The old men gave Dean warning glances on his way out. Promising him pain if he were to hurt her again. Dean nodded seriously, accepting the promise and telling them he would do his best to take care of her. Though all of them knew, that you didn't take care of Kat. She took care of you.

When she climbed into the back of the impala, she sighed happily. She was home. And she was happy. She grinned at Sam as he sat easily in the passengers seat. He was happy to be back in his position of navigation and intellect. No longer charged with protecting Dean from himself and driving at the same time. Sometimes he wondered how Dean did it all. How he kept up with the raging emotions that were sure to be swarming through his head.

The truth was. Dean didn't deal with it. He locked them away deep inside of himself, never letting it show because it would hurt the people around him. He found happiness in the little things, and let them overtake everything else. So now, he was happy. It didn't matter that the world was ending or that it was up to him to save it. He had his brother, and his Kat (because he didn't know quite what she was), his car, and himself. He would be fine.


	66. Chapter 66

**HI! Last upload for tonight! Please please review! I love you guys! –Han**

When they pulled into the motel, Kat was wary with sleep deprivation. She needed a long sleep. The kind that sucked you under and made your limbs heavy. As if it was trying to discourage you from getting out of bed.

She changed into a tank top and her girl boxers, walking out and climbing under the sheets. When she felt the pair of arms pull her close, she smiled. This was what she needed. She curled her body against his, unwilling to let him go. He seemed to feel the same, crushing her closer and kissing her hair. She nuzzled into his bare chest, the skin warm beneath her. He shivered as her cold nose pressed to the hollow of his throat.

He had missed her so much. He held her tightly, afraid of letting go and loosing her again. When her arm fell across his slim waist he grinned. Her leg came across his, hitched at his hip. He sighed and let his fingers run through her hair. He felt sleep on the edge of his mind and saw that she was already dead to the world. Her face soft and innocent in sleep. Her skin glowing in the pale light.

"Thank you God," he whispered. "Thank you for bringing her back." He let himself fall into sleep, a peaceful sleep.

***scene **

Castiel watched his charge come for her. Watched him hold her close and whisper. Watched her hide her smile and allow him to say what he needed to. Watched her plead to come home to him. He had smiled.

He had not come back to her since that night. Had not seen her since she had broken down, afraid that he would not be able to stand it. He had watched over her from afar. As he had with Dean. He had not gone close to Dean since he had read the mans memory of what he had done. He was afraid he would hurt him. Kill him.

He had not felt an anger so severe and blood thirsty in all his years. But they had mended. He thought that they had never really broken. Just cracked. That was different. He knew it was.

He came to them the next morning, watching them wake quietly. Dean blinked heavily, wishing she could go back to sleep.

"How long ya been there Cas?"

"Long enough," was the gruff reply. Kat was still asleep, but close to waking. He walked to Dean, leaning down until they were only an inch apart.

"Um..Cas?"

"Dean. I am telling you now. If I am ever forced to hold her while she cries again, and you are the cause…no amount of heavens power will be able to bring you back to where I will send you," he hissed, his eyes alight and his teeth barred. Dean shrank aback, knowing with all of his being that the angel would make good on his promise.

"I understand," he said hoarsely. Castiel stepped back and pulled his face into a smile as Kat awoke. She blinked and threw herself at the angel, holding him close.

"I'm so sorry you had to see me like that. Forgive me?" She asked. The angel had not come back to see her, and she feared she had made him uncomfortable.

"There is nothing to forgive," he told her gently. He pulled away from her and looked at them carefully. "Bobby will call soon. You need to get the colt. Anyway you can. Lucifer is going to raise Death soon, and you have to stop it," he said grimly, pushing them back into their reality. Their faces hardened and they nodded mutely, accepting their fate. This was a war. And now, they were on their game to fight it.


	67. Chapter 67

**Guys, I'm in a motel right now writing this…I feel like a Winchester. It's awesome.**

**Review! They are love...and the Beatles did say that love was all we need.**

**-Han**

Kat was quietly watching the people in the diner, all going about their lives as if the world was not ending. Because their world wasn't. As far as they knew.

She rested her head against the laminate, her fingers wrapped tightly around the cup of coffee she had been given. Dean was watching her smirking slightly. She had talked to Bobby for them, taking the brunt of his anger. Bobby had thought she was stupid. Not that she trusted the boys, because she could. They were good, strong boys that would try their best to do right by her.

No. She was stupid because she was surrendering to Dean with out a fight. She could be so trusting, for someone who had been through hell. She judged your character, learned who you were at the core. And then, nothing you could do would change that perception. She had judged Dean. Had deemed him worthy. Now he would get all the second chances he needed. He could hurt her, take his words and drive them into her heart and she would take it. And let you in again afterwards.

He ranted at her for the better part of a half hour, until she quietly told him that she slept the whole night through and was smiling again. He had swallowed his other arguments and sighed. His age communicated over the phone. He relayed his information about the reapers in town and hung up.

He had slumped against his chair and ran a hand under his ball cap. He loved the girl, he really did. But he wished she would be realistic. She couldn't stay with the Winchesters forever. She couldn't keep fighting forever. She would have to grow out of her headstrong, guns blazing, self sacrificing world. It would be a harsh day in reality when Kat realized that she wasn't invincible.

She looked up at Dean, who was watching her with calculating eyes. He would have to tell her eventually. He knew he would. She deserved to know. But not here. Not now. He was afraid that once he told her, she would hate him. Really truly hate him. Hate him for lying and hate him for preying on it.

He scrubbed a hand over his eyes. Now wasn't the time. The world was ending.

He wondered what he would do after it. Not that he really had to think about it. It was more who would he be doing it with. Sam would go back. Have a normal, real, safe life. One where he could be what he wanted and not fear for his life. But Dean…

Being a hunter wasn't what Dean did. Not like his father or Sam. Being a hunter was what Dean was. It was so ingrained in his being that he knew he would never be anything else. Never have a family or a wife. Because a hunters life was a life alone. Watching the world you protected from the inside. Living among those who had to be saved. Watching with the eyes of a guardian, seeing things no one else could, while blending in seamlessly into the background. At the center of it all, and never quite being close enough to touch the world he guarded.

No, his was a path mean to be walked alone.

He did wonder if Kat would continue. He couldn't imagine her being anything other than a hunter. But he had never known her want to be anything other. He hoped it for her though. Hoped she would get out. Get free.

When she looked at him across the table, he shoved back his thoughts.

"So what do we know?" He asked, taking the preferred lead.

"Cas can't get through the demons boarders cause of some Enochian symbols. He needs us to get in for him. The demon, Crowley, had the colt. And he's likely to put up a damn good fight," Sam said, reclining in his seat.

"Who else do we want on the second part?" Kat asked.

"The part where we kill the Devil? Everyone," Sam said.

"Even Jo?" she whined.

"Even Jo."

"But Jo's a bitch."

"So are you."

"But I'm a classy bitch."

"Fair enough. But it's still gotta be done."

Dean watched them banter and smiled. To be honest, he wasn't thrilled about seeing Jo again. Really wasn't thrilled. Dreading it would be a better description. But if he got a dead Devil out of it he could deal.

"How are we getting into Crowley's place? No way he's gonna let you guys in. You're too famous for your own good," Kat changed the subject.

"It's cause we're awesome," Dean said.

"Bait," Sam answered her question.

"Let me guess…my car broke down and I need a phone?" Kat asked. Dean's face was hard. He hated making anyone bait. Unless it was himself. That he could deal with. But her? A look from her shut up his prepared comment.

"Exactly," Sam approved. He didn't exactly love the plan either, but he was sure it would work. Kat rolled her neck and nodded her understanding.

She stiffened suddenly, her eyes trained on small girl holding her mothers hand. She shimmied back into the booth, shifting nervously. Dean glanced at her oddly, looking behind him to see the little girl.

"What?" he asked. When he saw the small doll in the girls hand he let loose a chuckle. "The doll…really?"

"Shut up! I hate dolls," she seethed. The girl walked by the booth and Kat pushed her body against the window.

"Why?" Sam asked, glancing at the unoffending doll in the girls hand.

"A hunt."

"What happened?" Dean urged, growing exasperated quickly.

"Possessed doll. Like Chucky. Not. Cool." She shivered for effect.

"Chucky?" Dean asked skeptically. Sam had no idea who Chucky was, because he hated horror movies, but figured it must have been particularly traumatizing.

"Yea. Crazy fucking doll."

"What happened on the hunt?" Dean asked.

"It was supposed to be easy. It was like, my second hunt. Simple salt and burn. But the kid was in the doll. I went back in to let the family know it was over…" She faded off.

She remembered her fear, when the house was quiet. She remembered the way Jaime had looked at her, like she should have realized this would happen.

"They were all dead. I was supposed to stay and protect them…but I went to back up Jaime instead. And they died," her voice was soft and sweet. "I should have stayed with them. I was just so stubborn…and then I got even stupider. I went in with out clearing the room. Damn doll snuck up on me. If Jaime wasn't there, I don't think I would have made it out," she whispered.

"Good to know he can do something right," Dean muttered.

"So…yea. I hate dolls." She finished lamely. Kat wished they could continue talking about the apocalypse. That she could understand. She could wrap her head around it. But her past…her mistakes. They bit at her mind, and she knew that the more she focused on them, the more likely she would make them again. She would loose track of her instincts and screw up. And she couldn't afford to screw up anymore. Too many people had been killed because her mistakes.

Dean snapped her out of her reverie, poking her none too gently on the arm. She jerked back to reality smiled warmly. He could tell what she was thinking. She was berating herself, pushing the guilt deep into her soul where it would affect her later. He could see the worry in her face and he did the easiest thing. Poking people worked. Generally.

Her eyes fluttered to his and he was taken aback by the raw self deprivation. He thought it was only him who ruminated so extremely on the ones he couldn't save. He knew Sam thought of them too, but they didn't drive him like they drove Dean. He saw every face of a lost one in the ones he saved. He thought of their families, that would never see their daughters or sons again. Now he knew that Kat saw them too. Every time she went into a hunt. That was why she was so perfect, so cool and calculated while she worked. She feared if she let her guard down, she would screw up. He knew the feeling.


	68. Chapter 68

**I'm Back! Tears of joy to **_**xxmaskedchickxx**_**, after reading your reviews I wrote like twenty pages. I absolutely love you for getting me completely back in the saddle. Big virtual hugs to any other encouraging reviews, you guys know who you are and I love all of you! You guys have no idea how much it means that you review and are nice and encouraging.**

**Note to **_**justcallmegrapefruit**_**, your input is appreciated, and thank you for taking the time to read this. And thank you, I did have an awesome day! I wrote like ten pages that day, saw the new Harry Potter, Brother Bear, Monsters Inc., and Matilda all in one day!**

She settled into the seat, she knew the task ahead. Infiltrating a demons lair, as cliché as that sounded, was way above her pay grade. She used to stick to the usual. Spirits, the occasional corporeal monster. She had adjusted as the demon population grew, but she only ever went looking for one. And that one was dead.

And now she had been sucked into the apocalypse. Of course, once Ash had let it slip, she was planning on joining up anyway. The end of the world needed soldiers. And since the band of hunters had drawn thin, she was available. She may not have been Captain America, but she could help.

She shook herself. Sometimes her mind could be suffocating. And if she let it go anyway she wanted, she was likely to drown in her thoughts. Drawn under by the raw fear, anger, and depression.

As a hunter is was hard not to be those things. She was under the impression that no one ever got over going into a hunt. No one could dispel the coiling knot in their stomachs as they faced something beyond them. She could feel it every time they landed a blow. Could remember how she felt, every time her skin was sliced open. She could remember her helplessness.

Then was the anger. She would never be that helpless again. She would never be at the mercy of something she could not understand. When the anger burned through her veins, she could see more sharply, and fight more viscously. That was when she scared herself. The raw power she could wield in her blows, the grace in which she moved. It frightened her that rage could make her so ruthless.

And finally the crippling depression. The all-consuming black hole inside of her that ate away at everything. It was never good enough to save the victim. Because one had had to be lost for her to know there was a case. She should have saved _that_ one. If she had than the victim she _did_ save would never have been in any danger at all. It wasn't enough to kill the demon. What about the man it was inside? She rarely had time for an exorcism, and the possessed usually died. It wasn't good enough, to put herself on the line, when other people were still hurt. Were dying. Everywhere. All the time.

She wasn't good enough.

She wasn't sure when exactly she pulled out of the train of thought. The one so grounded in her mind it seemed almost necessary to travel it. She thought it was around the time that she understood the music had stopped. She liked the music. It was loud and demanded attention. It broke the pattern in her head. The never ending loop of negative thoughts.

Kat looked up at Dean. He was eyeing her in the rear view, his jade green eyes silently commanding her to stop. He could obviously tell what she was thinking. Again. He forced her into conversation, his mouth set in a forced smile.

"So…what's the most fun you've had on a hunt?" He asked, his eyes flitting back to the road.

She paused, her eyes wide with confusion. She didn't have fun on hunts. She wasn't supposed to. She was supposed to do her job and get out with out disrupting too many lives. But then she thought to the easy banter between her and the brothers. The bad jokes and stupid comments.

"The hunts with you guys," she answered honestly. She tried to remember a time when it wasn't awkward or forced between her and Jaime. Her and Blake. She could pretend all she wanted that she and Blake had a good relationship. That they could talk and love and just be. But they couldn't.

She had noticed his affections. Had allowed him to continue them. And why not? He was good looking enough. Almost ethereal in the blondeness of his hair and the thin, but muscled frame. He had wormed his way closer, getting his sister Jenna to befriend Jaime. Had acclimated himself as one of their group. Their small renegade. John had only been around occasionally, and had barely noticed the two additions to their travels.

Kat was not concerned with him, though. Not bothered by the way he watched her. as if she was a precious diamond. She had pretended to be flattered. Had pretended not to mind the attention. And when he asked to be with her, as much as she could handle, she had not said no.

And that was simply because he knew things. He had his ear to the floor of the Roadhouse and hunters talked when you were on the loosing end of a poker game, as he often was. He knew a bit about her demon. Just enough to make him useful. So she allowed herself to be with him. Though it was a lot of trying on his part, and a lot of distance from hers. She had made herself cold, and he knew it. She had flinched from his touch, and he noticed.

These were things she could not help, so he accepted them. But she still manipulated. She would say something sweet when it was needed. Hold onto him when he doubted her feelings. Had finally kissed him when he thought of giving up. All the while he had fed her information. Her demon was underground for the time being, but he would rise soon. And then the Hell Gate had opened and she was told he was still underground. And then that one September had rolled around, and he'd gotten word that Dean Winchester had been risen. And that Alistair would follow soon. He had told her when he had almost been killed. And of how he had the barest of essences left when it was over. How Sam Winchester had not noticed him disappear.

The flow of information was recuperated with as much affection as she would give. Which was very little.

How had she even gotten on this train of thought? A pair of rapidly snapping fingers brought her back to the present. How much time had passed?

"I said…are you serious?" Dean repeated slowly. As if she were stupid. She bristled slightly, her voice biting.

"Maybe I was…maybe I wasn't."

"Alright, jeez. No need to freak out," he intoned, his eyes rolling.

"Shut up, Batman," she said grumpily. She readjusted in the seat and closed her eyes, intent on feigning sleep for the remainder of the ride. Thankfully the Winchesters seemed to realize she was done talking and let her sit.

When they were a half mile away from their destination, she exited the car. She started walking, tousling her hair and making her expression earnest and weary. As if she had been walking a very long time.

At the gates she was met by the demons. Their forms rolling with anticipation beneath their meat suits. She gave a happy smile, making relief roll off of her.

"Oh thank god! I've been walking for hours!" She leaned against the gate, forcing herself to look at the taller of the two men. The form beneath was vile, but she didn't let her disgust show.

They eyed her carefully, and she felt the tension grow. What if they could tell? What if they knew of her? She had been lucky to be underground for so long, but still, maybe. Then one smiled, welcoming her in.

"Thank you! I just really need to use a phone," she said earnestly, letting them lead her inside. Both demons flanked her carefully, their bodies almost touching her. She felt the need to vomit rise in her throat, but she pushed it down. Now was not the time to blow her cover.

"Of course, miss. You know it is awfully dangerous to wander these roads alone," the demon told her. Disgust consumed her. She knew what they wanted. And she hoped she could fight them off.

"Oh I know! Tricky cars though! Poor Beetle is an old thing, terribly unreliable," she said, shaking her head.

She counted to thirty in her head, knowing the boys should be inside, hopefully soundless. When one demon twitched, and nodded his head behind him, she knew they were screwed.


	69. Chapter 69

**TO EVERYONE! PLEASE READ!**

**I'm telling everyone now, that this story is going to wrap up in the next few weeks. As for sequel…I haven't forced anyone to review for updates, but I'm going to now. If by the end of this story we hit…lets say the 150 mark of reviews (previous positive reviews count…so its only like fifty to go) asking me to continue on my path to Sequeldum, then…I will upload the first chapter within two weeks of the ending. Otherwise I'll go on sabbatical for a month or so. I also have another story idea in the works so let me know if you want to hear it. I need you guys to come out and say it this time. I love all of you, and I'll upload lots more today! –Han**

She spun quickly, kicking outward and pulling out her knife. But the demons were too quick, knocking it out of her hand and grabbing her arms. She struggled, but their grips were vice-like and hard. If she survived, she would have some big bruises.

They dragged her to a building. She marveled at the liar like qualities it had. Every available surface scrawled on, with symbols of every religion. Some to protect, others to defend, others to harm. She felt her insides squirm as she was brought in. She thought that the symbols would not affect her, but she felt the draining power of it. She hoped that Dean and Sam had faired better.

When they were dragged in it was apparent they were not. "This is the last time you two make a plan. They suck!" She told them, struggling weakly against the demons that held her. Dean just grunted in response and Sam looked to not have heard her at all.

He was busy looking at the man in the far corner of the room. She saw the figure beneath, rolling blackness and red eyes. A crossroads demon.

The expensive suit gave the imposing look of power, and his features made him look European. She thought he looked like a mob boss. This was Crowley.

Her eyes widened as he produced the Colt, twirling it in his fingers before cocking it and firing. Each bullet embedding itself deep into each demon that held them. He smiled at their reactions, equal shock. Dean looked to her to be sure she was okay and she nodded, not bothering to look at him.

"So the Scooby Gang finally found me, took you long enough. All you need is a dog," he commented dryly.

"Why?" She asked, her body still weary, ignoring his opening statement. He smiled, and she forced her double sight to focus on the man, not the demon. It hurt her eyes to see them both.

"Ah, the infamous Katherine. You are stirring up quite the trouble, pet," he said, surveying her. "All of us are wondering what part you'll play in all of this."

"The part I am meant to. Now, why did you do that?" She asked, indicating the fallen demons.

"Simple…I want Lucifer dead," he said, slapping the Colt into Dean's hands. Dean's look was clear, explain or I shoot. "You see…Lucifer hates humans. And he hates demons too. Oh yes," he said to their confused looks. "We are useful to him now, an army he can command. But we are seen as below humans. We are living…well if you can call it living, proof of his point. We are proof of the flaws of humanity. We were human too once, you know," he said in a charming voice. Sam blinked, wrapping his head around the logic.

"Why should we believe you?" Dean asked.

"Because once he kills the humans…we'll be next. And I have no intention of dying anytime soon."

Dean raised the gun, pointing it at the demons forehead.

"You didn't think I would give it to you loaded did you?" he asked mockingly. Dean smirked.

"Not really, no," he admitted. "So you wanna get chummy with us…to protect your ass?"

"Pretty much. We can go back to hating each other once he's gone," Crowley said shrugging. Kat was quiet, her own mind working quickly, trying to understand his logic. She saw it easily enough. In the eyes of Lucifer, only other angels were worthy. They came first. They were the only ones deserving of God's love. She imagined demons would be quickly eradicated from the fallen angels grand world.

"Makes sense," she admitted quietly while Sam nodded along.

"I rather like her. You should keep her around," the demon said smiling. It was clear he was getting exactly what he wanted. Dean nodded his agreement, hesitant, but sure. Crowley tossed the package of bullets and disappeared, meat suit and all. The benefits of being a crossroads guy.

"Can we please get the hell out of here?" Kat asked, glad that it was over. The symbols, what ever they were, were wearing on her. The agreed and she left the room quickly, tracing her steps back to grab her knife and joined the brothers at the car. She got in and collapsed in the back, only to jump violently. "Jesus! Cas!" She complained.

"I apologize. Did you get the Colt?" he asked, his monotone voice held a note of urgency.

"Yea, he just gave it to us," Dean said, his voice colored by confusion.

They continued to talk as Kat thought quietly. It seemed she did that a lot now. Just thought.

She had been off the radar for as long as she could remember, never making herself known beyond the close ranks. Never making herself a target, unless another life was in danger. Since joining the Winchesters, she had been thrust into a light she didn't enjoy being in. She supposed that was the price she paid for family.

By the time she tuned back into the conversation, they were talking about the next phase. They were almost at Bobby's, and she had missed most of the plans. All she gleaned from it was an upfront attack, working their way through the town until they could take out the fallen angel. Seemed easy enough. But she knew, that their plans rarely went the way they were supposed to.


	70. Chapter 70

**All my love, enjoy!**

When they arrived at Bobby's, Ash, Ellen, and Jo, were already there. She saw her bike parked delicately at the mouth of the deck. She walked inside, the three men behind her. She went straight for the coffee, trying to understand why her mind was so numb. Recently, it hadn't been this bad. Maybe it was the almost crippling certainty that this would be their last day on Earth.

Her emotional shut down went unnoticed, as she filled her veins with caffeine. Ash hugged her and started running battle plans with the boys. She leaned heavily against a chair Dean had collapsed in. His eyes were bleak and it made her think that he was echoing her thoughts. She accepted his offered hand and held onto it, not caring why. She caught Jo's glare, but didn't have the strength to muster one up herself. Just let her eyes slide closed.

Exhaustion was an understatement. Dean felt it in the very depth of his being. He hated curveballs. He had been prepared for a fight and gotten compliance. Aide even. It wasn't normal. He had spent the majority of the car ride ruminating on the possibilities of what could go wrong. His thoughts a movie, showcasing all the possible ways they could all die tomorrow night.

He wished he could go in alone. That way if he died, he could go out with the knowledge that no one else got hurt. He didn't think he could take that. Not again.

He watched Kat struggle with her thoughts and held out his hand. When she took it he exhaled in relief. This was good. This was reliable. No matter what happened now, she would be there. He could work with that.

He watched her eyes slip closed in content and chuckled to himself. It seemed she was not the only one who soothed. His thumb ran lazy circles and he let himself fall back into his warrior mode. Work had to be done.

He listened intently, making a comment when needed and somehow knew that she was absorbing as much as him. He saw the looks Jo gave her, the scathing, biting glares. He knew Kat was ignoring them. She wasn't taking the high road, not by a long shot. She was just too tired to respond, and Dean could tell.

Bobby was watching her warily, like a protective father. Sam was sending Dean sharp looks, concerned for both of them. As usual. Castiel was standing, stoic, in a corner of the room. Watching. And Ash was tipping back a bottle.

"C'mere. All o' you," Bobby said gruffly. They looked up and eyed him in confusion. He held up a camera. "Gotta get the full Team," he said by way of explanation.

Grumbling, the hunters lined up in front of fireplace. Kat felt herself by squished between Sam and Dean. Their warmth forcing her mind awake. She sent Sam and small smile, trying to reassure him that everything would be fine. The tall man nodded, forcing his tense muscles to relax. He knew she could feel the coiled muscles as he stood next to her. He was ready for anything. He stared at the camera, not bothering with a smile and wrapped a loose arm around her. She leaned into his tall frame and smiled softly at the brotherly affection.

Dean watched as his brother hung an arm over her waist and answered with wrapping one around her shoulder. He did the same to Ellen, who stood beside him. Jo on the end was pouting and smiling at the same time. Castiel stood stoically beside Sam, his hands folded in front of him. Ash had claimed himself on the end, giving a goofy grin and a slick stance.

When Bobby called the countdown, she let herself relax against the brothers. A bright smile filled her face, probably the only one in the group. Whatever would happen tomorrow, she would have a family.

They pulled out the cots for the extra people, ready for a long night. Everyone would force themselves to sleep, so that they could be ready. The war ahead would allow no room for mistakes.

Kat stood from her spot on the armrest and went toward the guest room she had been assigned. Dean nodded to her, saying he would be a minute. She wearily made her way to the stairs, only to be stopped by Jo.

"You sleep with Dean?" she asked in a tense voice. Kat sighed and signaled Jo to follow her up the stairs. The blonde went with her and the pair stopped again when they were in front of her guest room.

"Yes, Jo. I sleep in the same bed as Dean. It's the only way I can sleep. I'm sorry if you have a problem with it," she said in a tired voice. Jo blinked. She had been expecting anger, defiance. Something she could work off of.

"I don't like it."

"And I'm sorry."

"…I'm sorry I shot you," she mumbled. She hadn't intended to say that, but the woman before her just looked so tired. "I still hate you though," she added bitterly. Kat gave a tired glare.

"I wouldn't expect it any other way. Bitch," she responded. Jo returned the glare with heat.

"I won't stop fighting for him."

"You do what ever you want. I honestly don't care," she said, the life coming back into her voice. The anger was there, raw and real. She didn't know where it came from, and she didn't particularly care for it. But it was too late to take it back.

Jo blinked and stepped forward. "Look. I know you like him. And I don't give a damn. He's mine," she seethed. Kat blinked. She didn't want Dean. At least, she didn't think she did. She honestly hadn't thought about it. She thought of Dean as safety and warmth. Could he be more?

And she was sure Dean wouldn't like being called anyone's. Dean had once told her, on one of their long rides to nowhere, that he never liked bondage. She figured he meant any kind. He wasn't the type to be tied down. So it didn't matter if she felt anything at all. Did it?

"You might want to let him know that," she said bitterly. She moved to her room, closing the door behind her. She changed quickly and collapsed in bed, curling herself into a tight ball.

Dean stayed downstairs, his body weary and his mind racing. He was waiting for Bobby to make the first move. When he felt the slap to the head, he turned in his chair to look at the man.

"Listen here you idjit. She may have forgiven you, but I sure as hell ain't. Now I don't know how bad she got, but she wasn't good, and that means you aren't good. Not after I get done with you," he said in a deadly voice. Dean felt himself nodding. "You watch yourself Dean, or I'll shut you up permanently."

When Dean came in bed ten minutes later, she immediately molded to him.

"What did she want to talk about?" he asked.

"You."

"Why am I not surprised?"

"Because you're always thinking of you," she teased. When he was quiet she propped herself up to look at him. His bright eyes were trained on the window. "I didn't mean that. I know you rarely think of yourself. You should do it more often," she amended.

He nodded wearily.

"But you won't. Cause you're like me and we never think of ourselves. I can't tell you to when I don't," she continued, babbling now. "I hate hypocrisy anyway. It's annoying as hell. Besides, in this life, I guess you're supposed to think of other people first, right? It's not bad that we think of other people. It doesn't mean that we have no self worth or anything. And it doesn't mean that we aren't allowed to be happy. We can still be happy, right? Right. And we can still have friends. It doesn't matter if they aren't girls or if they're other people like you. Does it? I mean, we're still people, right?" She looked at him and realized she had said. "Oops. Sorry."

"You say a lot when you're tired," Dean commented. He stretched up on his elbows, making Kat shimmy away from his rising face. "Are you upset because Jo doesn't like you?" He asked seriously.

"No! W-Why would you think that?" She stuttered to say. Her cheeks were red as he continued to stare at her. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything."

She growled and slid her hands into her hair. "It…it's just that I've never had a real girl friend. Ya know?"

"What about that girl Jenna you mentioned?" he asked.

"Nope. She was close to my brother. We talked. But it was just being nice. We never said anything important. I keep seeing movies were girls confide in each other. Why can't I do that?" She asked in a small voice. Dean sighed deeply and twined her fingers with his.

"It doesn't matter what other women think of you," he started slowly. "I know you, and you _are_ my friend. I may not go shopping with you, but I'll listen when you want to talk. Just because you're not like other girls…doesn't make it bad." his eyes were on his hand in hers. "And as for sacrificing myself…it's something I have to do. To keep my family safe."

"But, you are my family," she whispered. Dean's eyes shot to hers and they held. He had not been expecting that. "I don't think of you like a brother or anything," she continued. "It's more like…well I don't know what to call it. But it's good. I think. And I like it…I think," her voice was growing steadily quieter until it was just a whisper in their dark room.

Kat watched a slow grin form on Dean's face. "I like it too," he said softly. She smiled back, one of those rare true smiles that made something ignite in him. It made fingers of warmth work across his skin and something in his body lighter than it was before. He let himself fall back onto the bed, lazily opening his arms, inviting her in. She rolled to him and her fingers gripped the collar of his shirt. "Don't worry about it too much. We might die tomorrow, after all," he reminded sleepily.

"I almost forgot that," she said sarcastically.


	71. Chapter 71

** Hey Guys! **_**xxmaskedchickxx **_**, I am being absolutely horrible about the romance. MUAHAHAHAHAHAHH! enjoy this! -Han**

The angel had nothing to do. Everyone else was going to sleep, but he did not need or desire it. He stood awkwardly in the living room as Bobby got the last of his guests settled.

The older man sent him a sharp look, asking what he was doing. The angel only shuffled to the kitchen. He heard the wheels behind him and turned to face the weary hunter.

"What are you still doin' here?" It was clear that the man did not particularly like the angel. Castiel did not blame him. The man had seen much in his time, and faith was not something he held dear.

"I will watch over everyone," he said softly. The man glared.

"Keep an eye on Kat. I don't trust this invincible woman act," he said bitterly.

"Of course. And I have seen her with out it. You should count yourself lucky you did not have to witness it," Castiel said solemnly. There were some things you could never un-see. Katherine in tears was one of them.

Bobby sighed, he didn't know what to make of that. "She had to break down sometime," he said finally.

"I did not like it," Cas said stiffly.

"It's not healthy for her to keep it all in like that," Bobby was now talking to himself more than anything.

"It did not seem healthy when she let it out," he responded. He was fixed with a sharp look, one that demanded answers. "I pray to never have to see another human being like that," he said.

Bobby didn't say respond, only wheeled himself to his room, tiredly. He was too old for this end of the world shit. Add all his worries for Kat on top and he was surprised his hair hadn't started falling out. It was only thinning.

**next morning**

The morning was frenzied activity. Everyone checking ammo. Double checking it. Triple checking it. Making sure that all of their weapons were clean and ready. Kat was sharpening knives and blessing holy water while Castiel watched her. He was the only one not doing anything, because he had nothing to do. So they ignored his presence and continued to get ready.

Dean hated this. It was almost as bad as waiting. He liked it better when the fight came to him and he just had to jump in. But this was an all day preparation that made him crazy. Continuing to imagine all the ways it could go wrong. There were lots of ways.

He was just going over another one when Bobby shooed them out of the house, forcing them onto the road. Kat looked longingly at her bike and started toward the Impala. Dean looked at her and sighed. He wanted her in the car with him, but she deserved her time with her own baby.

"Go on. Ash can ride with us," he said, giving her a small grin. She hugged him and Sam before rushing to her bike. She ran a hand longingly over the leather and pushed Ash towards the Impala.

"Be safe! Ash, don't drive Batman up the wall," she commanded giving an impish grin to the flannel wearing boys. She slipped her helmet over her head, kicking the stand from under her and gunning the engine. Her extra supply of ammo was in the back of the Impala and she had strapped five weapons to her body. Her sawed-off was with Sam and Dean. Jo and Ellen were taking their own car, ending the motorcade.

Her bike thrummed beneath her, and she let out a contented sigh. If she was going to die today, at least she got one last go with her baby.

She remembered when she bought it. Just after Jaime had left. She needed an outlet for the pent up anger and rejection inside of her. She had gone to the edge of the Earth for her brother, and he had left her. She had bought the bike on impulse, with a fake card under a fake name, and ditched town the next day. When Blake had come back to her, begging to be let in on her solo mission to hell, she let him drive in his own car. She wouldn't let him ride it, because she didn't want his arms around her. Not when all they brought on was the feeling of disgust.

She wasn't sure why she had let Dean on. But it had been fun. The most fun she had had in a long long time. His arms were warm, and though they were so tight she could barely breathe, she liked it anyway.

The asphalt blurred beneath her, and time went with it. By the time she arrived in the small town, her legs were cramped and her hands were stiff. The other two cars rolled to a stop behind her at the entrance to the town and the hunters got out. Kat quickly approached the Impala, loading up with extra ammo and her shotgun. Sam tossed her a box and she tucked it into one of the many pockets of the cargo pants.

The work was monotonous and routine. It was clear they had all done this before. Dean tilted his head towards the town and they started walking. Kat shivered. It was too quiet. She could see the people, dressed in suits and standing stoic in the street.

"Would it be stupid to assume that all the people went on a group vacation?" Dean asked Sam, shooting glances around the deserted town.

"We can hope," he answered grimly.

She gripped the gun in her hands and looked at Dean. Castiel walked beside him and looked around cautiously.

"This town is full of Reapers…but they are just standing there," he said in a confused voice. Kat looked around, taking in the people and realizing only she and Castiel could see them. The angel moved around in a slow circle, his eyes taking in everything. He stopped suddenly, the blue eyes trained on a far window.

Castiel could see the man there and winked out of existence, ignoring the slew of curses from Dena and Sam at his rapid disappearance. He approached the figure slowly, his eyes cautious but firm. He watched the lanky man lean against the glass, watching the people and reapers beneath. The light bounced off of the pale skin, accentuating the sores and flaky skin. The vessel was not holding up well.

The sandy hair was tousled and the thick jaw was relaxed. This was going exactly as he had planned. Castiel moved to him, his stepped quiet and graceful. He did not notice when he stepped into the circle.

"Brother."


	72. Chapter 72

**Hey! I wuv you guys! I also wuv hugs. you guys get virtual hugs!**

** be happy. Review! -Han**

Dean was still cursing. He hated it when the angel disappeared. Especially when he had just told them there were Reapers everywhere. What the fuck were they supposed to do now?

His question was answered when his eyes caught movement.

"Well, well, well. We meet again Winchesters…and you brought friends," A high clear voice sounded. The group shifted as one, eyeing the girl. Her brown hair was curling and uncurling in the slight wind and she looked generally unthreatening. "Oh what's wrong? Don't recognize me?" she asked sweetly.

"Meg," Sam spit out. He hated that bitch. Just another demon to get close to him. Close enough to hurt him. That was always happening. He could see the freaking pattern, but it just kept happening.

"There ya go!" She commended. Dean pulled out the Colt and prepared to fire, but couldn't. Everything was morphing around him and he physically couldn't pull the trigger. "Dean, you naughty boy! Why don't you play instead?" She asked.

Kat tensed at the sight of the dogs. Huge hulking things with red eyes and rows upon rows of teeth. She watched the rest of them jerk at the barks, their eyes dancing around them to locate the source of the noise. She could hear Meg taunt Dean, whose eyes were wide. He had faced these monsters before. Hellhounds.

"My Father is just so anxious to get rid of you all," she intoned, smirking at the group. Kat felt Ash bristle, sarcastic comment ready. She gripped his arm, silently telling him this wasn't the time.

Kat tensed as she watched the dogs set back on their haunches, preparing to spring. "Run," she told the stunned group. They stared at her blankly. The signal bark echoed through the deserted town and she started backing up slowly. "Run!" She screamed again as they bounded forward.

She pulled Ash along with her and caught up to Sam's long-legged strides. She looked back long enough to see Dean push Ellen forward and grab Jo to run. There was a hound behind them. The great, hulking form was viscous and deadly as it grabbed at Dean's legs. He let out a hollow yell and Kat turned to help him.

She stopped short as she watched another bound for Sam. She pulled out her knife and intercepted it. It's full weight bowled her over as she slit its throat with the dagger. The wounded yelp sounded loudly as it collapsed on top of her. She shimmied from under it, aware that to the others it would look like she had just fallen on the ground.

By the time she stood again and prepared to rush to Dean, he was passing her, Jo held firmly in his arms. She ran with him, shooting at any of them and hurrying to Ellen, Ash, and Sam. They held open a hardware store door, and the three rushed in, jumping the makeshift salt line they had planted.

Kat felt ready to collapse and had to hunch over to catch the breath she had lost to the Hellhound that pinned her. She had not had time to fully regain it, and was taking the much needed opportunity now. When she looked up she saw the damage.

Jo was bleeding, the slashes deep and viscous in her abdomen. She turned away at the sight of internal organs, visible. Her guts spilling onto her lap and onto the floor. Even with a hospital, she probably wouldn't make it.

Kat had heard somewhere that this type of wound could take up to fifteen minutes to cause death. That was a long time. She looked helplessly at Ash, who had gone a deathly white. She did not like the woman sprawled on the concrete floor, but she didn't want her to die.

Dean turned to her suddenly, his eyes pleading. "Heal her, you have to heal her, please!" He begged, his eyes tearing up. She had jumped in front of that thing for him. Jo had to suffer this for saving him.

"W-what? I can't heal her! What are you talking about?" She was borderline hysterical. She couldn't do anything.

"Yes you can! I've seen you!" He implored. In hindsight, Dean would see that she had no idea what he was talking about. He would remember that he and Castiel had lied to her. He would remember the three hours it had taken for her to even heal herself.

But this was then. And then, all he wanted was to save Jo. He was tired of loosing people. He was tired of his affection for someone, be it platonic or not, causing their deaths. He thought of his mother, the woman who had been his world, plastered to the ceiling. He had loved his father, and he had died. He loved Sam more than the air he breathed, and he had died many times. There were endless people who had either died or left him. He was tired of being left behind. Left to pick up the pieces and pretend he was okay. He was tired of the death and pain.

"You can heal her?" Ellen asked hopefully. She looked imploringly at the stunned woman.

"No! I can't! I've never healed anything before!" Kat tried to get them to see reason. She couldn't hold Jo's life in her hands. She had never magically healed anyone. She wasn't Cas.

"Try!" Dean forced out between gritted teeth. Her eyes grew wide with something close to fear. The look in his eyes was ferial and desperate.

"You can too do it! You just don't want to save me!" Jo spoke up in anger. She glared at the pale woman before her. Kat took two steps back, her head shaking back and forth, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"I don't know what any of you are talking about! I can't heal anyone!" She said desperately. Sam and Ash just looked numb. Their faces blank and trained on Jo, who had lost color and was breaking out in a sweat.

Dean's glare made her let out a shaky breath. She approached Jo and laid a hand on her head. She had no idea what she was doing. She had never begun to do this before. But she had read enough cheesy teen books in her day to get the gist.

She slowly and methodically emptied her mind, leaving nothing there but herself and sought out a force of power. But no light would come to her. No image. No reservoir of strength.

"I-I can't. I'm sorry," she said brokenly. Jo's eyes were hard as she shook her off. Kat moved back to Ash, her head still shaking. "I don't know what you want me to do!" she screamed. Dean looked at her. He remembered now, how ignorant of it all she was. He felt his eyes soften and tried to tell her silently that it would be okay.

"It's okay. I'm sorry," Dean said eventually. "We need a plan to get out of here with out alerting the Hellhounds."

"No Dean," Jo spoke up. "I can't go."

"Then I'll carry you. We're getting' you out," he said forcefully, a hint of Southern in his frustrated voice.

"It doesn't matter. With wounds like these, I won't last another ten minutes. Let me help," she implored. Her eyes sought out his firey green and held.

"What are you planning?" Sam spoke up, his face sad.

"We're in a hardware store…there's gotta be stuff we can use…" she trailed off.

"For what?" Ellen asked.

"For a bomb. An iron, salt, shrapnel bomb," Jo said calmly. Kat caught on along with everyone else. She was offering herself as a human explosive. Bait, distraction, and detonation, all in one.

"No! You are not staying here!" Ellen shouted, her face hysterical.

"Mom! Let me do this! I have to do this!" Jo shouted, her face contorting in pain. Dean held her hand and shook his head. He couldn't leave her to do this. "You too Dean. This is my choice."

The set lines of her face told them all that she had made up her mind. So with heavy hearts, Sam and Ash began assembling a bomb. When it was finished, Jo was shaking with onslaught of pain. It would be over soon. They strapped it down and handed her the detonator. She gripped it tightly in one hand, forcing it to stop shaking.

Kat had moved to the back of the group, unable to bear the shame. She didn't know how she could have, but she should have saved her. She should have healed her. She didn't understand why Dean thought she could, but if he thought she could, then she probably could. She didn't know how or why, but she couldn't reach it. She couldn't find anything in herself that could help, and it made her sick.

She watched quiet words be exchanged by Jo and Dean, their eyes sad and gentle. And then Jo let her free hand wrap around Dean's collar, pulling his face towards hers. Kat thought her world had stopped turning as their lips met. She couldn't look away as they molded together, moving against each other.


	73. Chapter 73

**Here we go again! Love Love Love everyone. Please review!**

** -Han**

Why did she feel a ripping her chest? Why did she feel tears work their ways into her eyes? It must have been her emotional side, reacting to that last goodbyes. The last desperate attempt to make communicate feeling. While Dean was simply receiving it, Kat did not see him try to end it. She felt a sickness roll into her stomach and she looked away and wiped at her eyes.

When she felt fingers twine with her own she looked up. Sam was watching her with sad eyes. He didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. She just nodded, answering some question that he never asked. She leaned against his arm, feeling the brotherly affection. She didn't have the right to feel this way. Not when someone was dying right in front of her. What right did she have to feel anything? Even if she wasn't sure what it was.

It took her a moment to realize that it was loneliness. An empty feeling in her gut that made her shiver. She would never, could never, have love. Especially not with Dean. Not only did she not deserve it, but she couldn't handle it. After everything that had happened to her, she would always be alone. Her skin would never feel the flush of pleasure. Her lips would never be caught with anothers. Her heart would never soar with love. Her soul would never burn with desire for another person.

Especially not Dean.

It was clear now, that it wasn't even a possibility. Not that she had been considering it before. But she realized that she had not _not _been considering it. He had been her constant, and she realized with a jolt, that he wasn't hers. How could he be? She had nothing special to offer him.

She shook herself to the present as they separated, Jo's eyes streaming. But Kat did not miss the glare she sent her. The one that said 'I win.' And so she had. And then she nodded at them all, urging them to go. The salt lined door would only hold for another minute or so, the intelligent Hounds were banging against the doors. All the had to do was get them to swing open, and the salt would be wiped away.

_Bang!_

Another hit on the door sounded and Ellen flinched into her daughter. Jo glared.

"Mom," Jo started warningly.

"You're right. This is your choice. But it's mine too. I'm staying," Ellen said clearly. Her mind had been made. She wouldn't leave.

"But mom, you have to-"

"I will not let you die alone!" She cried, her eyes fierce and bright. Jo nodded slowly, taking her mothers hand.

_Bang!_

Jo sent another glare at Kat, but she didn't return it. Just blinked wearily and took Ash's hand. Then man looked up from his silent thoughts, realizing he would have to leave. He bent, kissing both blondes on the cheek and whispering goodbyes. He had never been good with words, so goodbye was all he said. It seemed good enough for them though. Sam repeated the process, hugging Ellen close.

"I'm sorry," Kat whimpered, unable to say anything else. Ellen inclined her head, understanding the gravity behind the words while Jo only stuck out her chin defiantly. Dean started to say something. Something meaningful. Something he needed to say.

_Bang!_

He stopped, and settled. "Thank you for everything," he said softly. The women nodded and urged them out the back door.

Kat heard the front doors cave in a clatter of glass. She heard the malicious howls and barks. Heard their nails on the floor and the gnashing of their teeth. And then she was ducking, behind a building and to the ground, as the explosion tore through the air. The shock reverberating through her body until it caved in on itself, the glass and concrete pieces flying through the air.

She was vaguely aware that a warm body had laid on top of hers, to protect her from the debris. But all she could see were the flames. Sky-high walls of fire, licking upwards and outwards. Their elegant fingers wrapping around the remains of the building, clawing for more kindling. She choked out a dry sob. She felt like she could smell the charred flesh, but they were too far away. That was just her memory, reminding her what it smelled like. The sick scent of burnt meat. As if a cow had been pushed into an incinerator. There were no words to describe the smell.

She shook herself, pushing off the body too see it was Dean. She stood shakily, her mind blank. She wouldn't allow herself to think of it. Not when there was still a job to do. And of all the things to happen in that moment, she jumped as her phone rang.

The familiar sound of 'Bad Moon Rising' signifying the caller to be Bobby.

"Yea?" she answered thickly.

"What happened?" he asked, his voice etched with worry and concern.

"Hellhounds. Demon. Lost Ellen and Jo," she answered. Bobby sucked in a pained breath and sighed loudly.

"Damn," he whispered. The pain in his chest would grow later, when he would allow himself to think of it. "Look. You guys gotta keep moving," he informed her. "I think our old pal Lucifer is there to raise Death."

"The horsemen?" she asked wearily.

"The one and only," he commented dryly. Kat thought that would explain the dozens of Reapers. "And you guys are in the primo spot, since a Civil War battle occurred there."

"Okay. We'll head to the grave yard and stop him," she said, her voice devoid of emotion. She hung up and relayed the information to the three. "Ash, go back," she pleaded.

"No!"

"Please," she whispered. Ash sighed. He was rusty and he knew it. He hadn't been on a hunt in years, and the Devil probably wasn't the wisest idea for a 'back in the saddle' hunt. Kat thought the same apparently. "The only reason why I let you come was because you begged. You saw what just happened. I won't let it be you!"

Ash hung his head. She would be distracted if he went. So would the Winchesters. He could hold his own, but he was out of practice. So he hugged her close, kissing her cheek, and bid goodbye to the three.

"Y'all better come back," he warned, before making his way back through the town. He would take Ellen's car back to the Roadhouse and drink away his grief. And his shame. He could not help them, and it was eating at his brain. But next time…and damn it there would be a next time, he would help. He had to.

Sam led the way towards the graveyard. No one spoke, and the tension was killing him. He wanted to console Kat. But had no idea what to tell her. Sorry my brother kissed her? Sorry she died? Sorry we all tried to make you heal her when you obviously have no idea how to?

None of those things would help very much. He had looked away the moment Jo pressed her lips to Dean's and his eyes had found Kat. Her blue eyes were fractured, broken in parts. The rest barely held together by pride and will stronger than steel. He could practically feel her mind running a mile second, rushing down avenues he could never understand. He could see the barely hidden longing in her eyes. She wanted that. Wanted what she was witnessing between Jo and Dean. Affection. Love. Connecting in a way that she thought she could never have.

So he twined his hand with hers, and she had responded. He would never know the effort it took her to push away those thoughts. Just like he would never know the pain she lived with every day. But he could guess. So he let her lean into him and had kept his grip firm.

Now she was walking with purpose in her step. She wanted this to be over. Wanted to rest. Wanted to breathe. Her eyes were hard and steely, and it made Sam wary to move closer to her. This was the hunter she was. The warrior.

Dean looked much the same, his shoulders tense and his jaw set. He was ready to kill, at whatever cost to himself. He could feel the familiar knot of anticipation and fear that came with a hunt. And this was the hunt of all hunts. The mix of feeling consumed his body, but his mind was clear. The distant, calculating hunter was clear and present in his head. And he was ready. He had to be.


	74. Chapter 74

**And we finally learn! I hope you guys like it and it wasn't too terribly cliché. Here we go! Please review! All my love, -Han**

The night was cold, and Kat could feel it seeping into her skin, but she didn't let it show. Nor did she let the fear break free. She was afraid. How could she not be? She was about to be pushed roughly into the path of something older than the world. How could they expect to kill something older than the human race?

She didn't want her doubts to affect her, and by the time they arrived at the mouth of the graveyard, she had successfully pushed them into the recesses of her mind. She glanced at Dean, who held the Colt firmly in his hand. She could draw on his seemingly endless reservoir of strength. She didn't know where he got it all from. She didn't understand how he hadn't cracked yet.

She imagined, if she had the weight of the world on her shoulders, she would have collapsed under it. She would have shoved it back onto Atlas. He could deal with it. But Dean was stronger than her. Stronger than any of them. And he bore his pain quietly.

She glanced to Sam, he was strong too. The struggle within himself had to be great. Always wondering if you are worth the air you breathe. If you are worth the hunt. If you are a monster. She wished she had to words to tell him that he wasn't. That he was good and whole and human. She wished she had the words to tell him that he was worth it to her. That he was worth everything any of them could do to keep him safe. His hazel eyes were hard and cold.

They were ready. The infallible brothers. Always having each others backs. Always ready for the fight. She hoped they could come out of this one on top.

Kat let the brothers lead the way into the graveyard, because this was their fight. They had been called out by their separate armies. They had been chosen. She was along for the ride. And that was exactly how she wanted it.

As they walked further in, the three hunters could see the stoic people. Not many. Maybe fifteen or so, just standing there. Their eyes were glazed, staring with rapt attention a the man above them. He stood on a hill, back bent, shovel in hand. The blue-collar flannel shirt was smudged with dirt and the ratty jeans hung low on his hips. The short hair was a rough sandy color, and in the light the skin looked flaky and red.

The man turned and Kat took an involuntary stepped back. She was seeing triple. She could see the lanky man, the skin he was wearing. That vessel was wearing thin. She could see the all encompassing darkness beneath that. The terrible ferocious, vicious, evil _thing_. The thing that could bring about the end of the world. She felt her heart beat stop, then take off rapidly, the fear pushing its way through her veins and shouting at her to run.

But underneath that. She could see the angel. The beautiful light being that once was. She could feel tears want to break free. How could something so beautiful become so evil? The man smiled, and she watched cracks appear in his skin. The vessel wouldn't last much longer.

"Hey!" Sam shouted, catching Lucifer's attention. "You wanted to see me?" Kat stayed back, her eyes flitting between the two.

"You don't need that gun Sam…you know I'd never hurt you. Not really," he said in his soft voice.

"Well," Dean said from next to him, clicking safety off. "I would hurt you. So suck it," he said forcefully, pulling the trigger and watching the angel crumple to the ground. Kat was behind Dean, shaking her head. This was too easy. Something was wrong.

"Gah! OW!" Lucifer moaned, sitting up. There was a crisp black hole in his head. The gaping wound had clearly caused pain. But not death. He stood, the wound slowly stitching itself back together. "Where did you get that?" He asked at Dean's shocked and dismayed face. He didn't get an answer, only flung his hand out and watched Dean crash into a tree twenty feet away.

"Dean!" Kat couldn't hold in the shout. She was about to run to him, when she caught the fallen angel's look. He hadn't even noticed her there.

"Ah, ah, ah. It's the little mutant," he said softly, looking her over. "You're shorter than I thought you'd be," he said offhandedly. He looked over to Sam. "Don't feel too bad, Sam. There are only five things in creation that that gun can't kill. I just happen to be one of them. But if you give me a minute, I'm almost done." He went back to digging. "I don't suppose you'd just say yes now…end this whole tiresome discussion?"

"It's never gonna happen!" Sam screamed. Kat flinched from the ferocity in his voice but couldn't help the spark of pride that ignited in his chest.

"Oh I think it will. I think it's gonna happen with in six moths. I think it's gonna happen in Detroit," he said smiling.

"He'll never give in!" Kat shouted.

"It does speak! Oh you're just a doll, you," he said kindly. "I am very sorry for what Alistair did to you. I intended for you to die easily. Like going off to sleep," he smiled. "But now I think you could be useful."

"How?" She asked in a small voice.

"I haven't met a Nephilim in a very very long time," he said tilting his head. "You could be good on my team."

Kat glared. "Never."

"See that's what I thought you'd say," he said softly. "But you don't even know what a Nephilim is…do you?" Kat shook her head. "It's simple when you think about it…you're mother was a prophet. And prophets get angels to watch over them. Your mom…was pregnant," he paused. "But one was going to be a still born. Dead before it had even formed completely."

Kat was shaking her head. This wasn't right. Wasn't right.

"Oh yes, darling. It was going to cause your mothers death. And that was all well and good but the angel was too…attached," he smiled. "Can you see where the story is going?"

"You're lying!" She screamed.

"No I'm not!" The fallen angel sounded truly offended. "I don't need to. Anyway…the ritual was simple. All it took was some angel blood and some grace. Just enough to keep Hannah DeLaroux strong through labor. What they didn't expect…was to reanimate the still born, with raw grace," he faded off, looking her over. "And that still born…it wasn't Jaime." He smiled.

Kat shook herself, her eyes hard, "It doesn't matter."

"It doesn't?" he asked incredulously. "Come on? Have you ever wondered why it hurts to touch Dean?" he asked, changing the subject. Kat blinked, and Sam tensed up. "Sure it's gotten better, but your back still hurts? That's two broken souls trying to latch onto one another. But you're not human enough. Of course, you could wonder if Dean still is. All that time in hell…there's bound to be something wrong. That little piece of darkness that will just keep growing. Until he's no better than what he hunts. Now you're telling me it doesn't matter?" Lucifer asked incredulously.

"No," she choked out. "Because I won't join you. And neither will Sam. And you can shove it for all I care," she hissed.

"Now that's no way to talk," he said with sad eyes. "And here I thought we were making progress."

"I am going to kill you myself," Sam seethed, finding his voice. "I am going to rip your heart out!"

"Good…good. Feed the rage…I'm going to need it," Lucifer said. Kat glared at him, her blue eyes cutting and fierce. He ignored her. Instead he gave Sam the sob story, of a brother scorned. He played on the man's memories, his pain. Kat could feel Sam beginning to crumble. He remembered the way Dean had said no. How he had turned his back on him. But he was right. If he had listened to his big brother, he wouldn't be looking at Lucifer like now.

When Lucifer began the ritual, Kat felt a tug on her arm. She looked up to Sam. He expected the hunter, not the child. The look she sent him was scared and broken. He pulled her to Dean, who was awake now, and they ran. The ground was shaking and the demons were dropping, and Lucifer was smiling.


	75. Chapter 75

**Review! Love you guys!**

When Kat felt her lungs would catch fire and burn away her air, Castiel was there. His coat was singed at the edges and she assumed he had had his own fight. His eyes were worried as he touched two fingers to both Sam and Dean's foreheads.

"Where did they go?" She asked fearfully. She just wanted to go home. She wanted answers.

"The car. And you will go to yours," he said in his gruff voice, letting his fingers touch her skin. She sucked in a breath at the feeling of feathers against her skin and opened her eyes. Her bike was there. She mounted it and gunned the engine, seeing the Impala just in front of her. Her eyes were running, but she kept her eyes focused on the road.

Her eyes flitted to her hand. The small star-shaped scar was there. She was still her mothers' daughter. She was still her brothers' sister. But she wasn't human. Not fully. She was a mutant. A half breed. It was clear from the way Lucifer looked at her that in his eyes, she was scum. A science experiment. A possible weapon. But never a person. She was no better than the demons in his eyes.

She was a freak.

By the time she pulled into Bobby's house, her mind had shut down. Bobby had given her a concerned look, but she only shooed him off. She went wearily to the bathroom upstairs and showered. Her chest still hurt from the Hellhound's weight, and there would be a large bruise tomorrow. Her head pounded, but that was good. It meant her thoughts couldn't ruminate for too long.

She got out, her scars standing out in the florescent light. She dressed and moved like a zombie to her room. She walked to the window seat, bracing her back against the wall. She pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. Her cheek rested on her thigh and her eyes looked out towards the Salvage yard. When the door opened, she didn't move. Her posture would tell Dean that she didn't want to talk. He would leave her alone. For tonight anyway.

"Kat?" The voice was Sam's, wounded and gentle.

"Yea Sam?"

He walked towards her, watching her back tense and relax as she breathed.

"I…I know how you feel," he started. "And I know, coming from me, it won't mean much. But you're still you. Nothing's changed," he said laying a hand on her shoulder. Her muscles tensed and she sighed.

"I-I want to believe that," she whispered. "I really do."

"Look. We'll look it, we'll find out what it means. But trust me…trust me, getting caught up in the what if's of who you are…doesn't lead to anything good." Kat shook herself. She was berating herself for being half angel. She completely forgot the fact that Sam had to deal with demonic blood. She had it easy. She moved one hand to rest on top of his. Her eyes were still trained on the window, but a soft smile played on her lips.

"Okay Sam. Okay."

He pulled her off the window seat, crushing her into a warm hug. Her head burrowed into his chest, and her hands gripped the back of his shirt. "S-Sam?" She asked quietly.

"What?"

"If I'm so special…why couldn't I help anyone?" Her voice was small and soft.

"You do help people. All the time," he answered.

"No…why couldn't I save my family?"

Sam didn't have an answer, so he crushed her closer. He couldn't tell her anything to make it better. Couldn't string together the perfect words to soothe her. He hated being this helpless. Words were his aide. His weapon. He could manipulate them to his liking. To harm or to soothe. He and words worked well together. But now they were evading him, leaving his speechless.

Kat felt him stroke her hair and sighed. He didn't have an answer. And neither did she. She looked up and offered a small smile. "Where's Batman?" she asked. Sam scrunched up his forehead.

"I think he went out…the thing with Jo really messed him up," he said softly. Knowing Dean he was drowning his sorrows with the company of Jack Daniels and Ms. Sorority Sue. But he didn't tell her that. She looked crestfallen enough. And tired.

"I wish I could have done something," she whispered.

"We shouldn't have put that one you. I didn't even know what Dean was talking about," he mumbled. Kat nodded her understanding and looked at him with teary eyes.

"I hate myself, Sam."

"Why?" he asked in utter confusion.

"Because I don't feel anything. Jo and Ellen are dead and I don't _feel anything_," she whispered. Again, Sam didn't know what to say. He cupped her cheek and kissed her forehead, a silent communication that it was okay. That everything would be okay.

Sam thought he felt wetness on his shirt, but made no move to mention it. He just held her close. He could feel the weariness in her body and knew that she wouldn't be able to sleep alone.

"You need to sleep," he whispered. "I'm not Dean…but I can try," he said by way of explanation. She nodded against his chest and pulled away. He watched her crawl under the covers and curl deep into the bed. He left the room to change and came back in wearing an undershirt and boxers. He slipped under the blankets and pulled the woman to him. Her hands fisted in his shirt and he wrapped a hesitant arm around her shoulders. He didn't know if he would help, but he felt he had to try.


	76. Chapter 76

**Here we go! (off to never neverland?) -Han**

Dean stumbled back into the house hours later. The sky was beginning to lighten and Dean could feel sleep in his brain. It was gnawing at him and he was about to drop. He had gone to the closest bar, and drank. That's all he did. Jack Daniels had been plastered to his hand and his mind was delightfully fuzzy. He had to push away the feeling. Of inadequacy. Of guilt. Of shame.

He should have saved her. He should have gotten her out. Them out. It just added insult to injury that Ellen had stayed. He sighed. It seemed that no matter how much he drank, his thoughts couldn't stay away.

The ride back to Bobby's had been some form of cruel torture. Sam had been so quiet, shooting him glances every few minutes. It made him wonder what exactly the Devil had said to him. When he had asked, Sam had shut down. His face had hardened and he had taken to glaring out the window. Dean had settled to squeezing it out of him later.

He blearily moved to his room, and stopped short at the door. He definitely didn't expect that. Kat was awake, it seemed she had been for a while. Her index finger lazily tracing the planes of Sam's face. Her eyes watched him with rapt attention, and Dean remembered when he had woken up to that. A soft smile graced her features as she curled herself closer to the younger Winchester. Sam's arm was draped across her waist, the tendons standing out as he unconsciously demanded for her to stay close. His chin rested on top of her head, her black hair splayed on the pillow behind her. Her eyes slid closed, taking no notice of the gruff, barely-sober, hunter in the doorway.

Much later, Dean was tipping back another beer, sitting on the trunk of his car. He wasn't supposed to be feeling. But he did. It was a scary sense of loss. Of rejection. He had been _replaced_, in the few hours he'd been gone. He wasn't needed anymore. It was just like any other person in his life. She left him. Just like everyone else. Everyone left him. Because he wasn't good enough? Was what he gave not enough?

He tried to tell himself that it was the grief talking. Not the sting of imaginary rejection. It wasn't like they were even together. Because they weren't. And it wasn't like he liked her. Because he could not do that. Why was he even thinking about it? Jo had just died. Had kissed him just before, and he was worrying about a completely different woman? It was wrong. And it made him feel sick. Something was wrong with him, that he would think that way.

He definitely didn't like her anyway. Sure she was beautiful. Sure she had a nice body. Sure she was his kind of smart, street smart. Sure she let him sleep. Sure she made him blink a bit slower when she looked at him. Sure he had practically become a friggin' monk. But that didn't mean he liked her. Because he didn't.

Not even a little bit.

"Damn it!" he whispered to himself as he looked up. She was walking outside, her steps hesitant and careful. Her eyes worried and soft, on him. He was in over his goddamned head. "You win!" he mumbled toward the sky.

"Batman? Are you alright?" she asked, looking over him carefully. She had stolen one of his shirts, to wear over a black tank top and faded jeans. He gulped. Seeing her in his shirt was doing a number on him. This wasn't right. Why couldn't he had come to this conclusion a week ago? Before Jo had kissed him?

Maybe he _was_ cursed.

"What? Yea, I'm fine," he managed to say, unconvincingly.

"You're a bad liar for a conman," she said teasingly. She moved closer to him, leaning against the Impala, careful not to scratch it. Her wide blue eyes peered at him through thick lashes.

He sucked in a breath and let it out in a huff. "I saw you with Sam," he murmured. He smiled slightly at her look of shock.

"I…"

"It's okay, it's not like we're together or anything. I was just surprised," he said, watching her reaction. She seemed to deflate the slightest bit. No one else would have noticed it, but not everyone was a hunter. He knew he was a cruel man to find hope in what he saw.

"It's not that at all, Dean," and there was the full name. He should either be happy or worried. He wasn't sure which. "I just…you were knocked out and Lucifer said some things…things Sam could relate to. You weren't there and I needed to sleep or I was going to explode and he could see it," she shrugged. "It was weird though. Hard to sleep, but no nightmares."

Dean's eyes were wide and his mouth was slack. He had to pick _then_ to pass out, didn't he? "What…um…What did he tell you?"

"I'm gonna tell you and Bobby at once…I don't like saying it," she whispered. She looked up at him and sighed. "What did you um..."

"Do?" Dean finished. "Just drank. Had a lot to think about," he admitted. She nodded and brought her hand to his, lacing their fingers.

"I'm…Dean I'm sorry, about both of them. I know you were close," she told him, her eyes watching him carefully.

"I know. Thank you," he said shortly. The last thing he needed was for his thoughts to be pushed back on to Jo. And onto the kiss. And onto why he was a dick for thinking about Kat. And onto why he should keep _that _and his _conclusion_, to himself.

She blinked and sighed. "I-I'm sorry," she said softly. She slid away from the car, her fingers slipping from his hand.

"No," he said out loud, holding onto her hand. "I just have a lot on my mind. But I…and we…I can't," he struggled. The words wouldn't come to him.

But she smiled, and pulled him to her. Resting her head on his chest she breathed in the familiar scent. Gunpowder and leather and motor oil. Sam had smelled more like soap and musk. "I get it. Nothing's gonna change."

"Thank God," he whispered, chuckling. Nothing had changed. Except his frame of mind. How he saw her. No longer as just an untouchable statue. But something he wanted. Something he needed. Some_one_ he liked. A lot.

***later***

When Kat had finished speaking, the room was silent. She squirmed, leaning on Sam for solace. He had been through this before. He held her hand and smirked at Dean's small glare.

"So…what do you think?" she asked, trying to make it seem unimportant. Casual.

"I think…that we never catch a goddamned break," Bobby sighed. Dean looked like he was about to have a small heart attack.

"Did he tell you…who the angel was?" he asked in a strained voice.

"No," she looked up. "Does it matter?"

"No…I just thought you would want to know," he said, his eyebrows scrunching.

"Not unless it's one I know. And since the only ones I know are Lucifer, Cas, and Gabriel, I doubt I'll get an answer," she answered shrugging. Dean shifted uncomfortably.

"I'll…um…I'll call Cas," he said softly. Anything to get out of the room. Kat nodded absently and started grazing the organized chaos of Bobby's library.


	77. Chapter 77

**Here's Cas's thoughts. I thought it'd been a while since we'd had a monologue by a character, and I've had this one planned out for weeks. Enjoy! –Han**

Castiel was standing at the top of the Rocky Mountains, over looking the world. He felt the chill, but was not uncomfortable. He knew the wind was further tousling his already messy black hair. His eyes were on the horizon. And he was thinking. what he did best.

Castiel had seen many things in his life. Though by other angels standards, he was quite young. He had seen humans gather in droves to worship Greek and Roman gods that they did know were the same and did not know had been dead for decades before. He admired their resolve to kneel before deities that could no longer hear them, and further admired their reliance on faith to guide them.

He had watched Socrates measure the worth of life in questions and watched his students record them with the same reverence of their holy books. Castiel had seen the rise of his fathers name and the blood that accompanied it. He had watched prophets be hung and tortured, and finally, crucified. All in the name of a God that was the same. He had watched DaVinci try to learn to fly and fight the institution of the Catholic faith at once. And he had watched innocent women be burned alive in the name of witchcraft.

He had watched the city of Babylon fall and the nation of Egypt rise. He had watched the river of the Nile flow the wrong way, and people take it as divine.

He had watched nations rise from ashes and leaders rise to corruption. He had watched blood flood the fields of battle and humans fight to the death with what they thought were other humans. He had watched the birth of hunters and the death of them, all fighting to make the unknowing public safe. He had seen normal people dragged into the world of the supernatural with nothing more than local legends to guide them.

But he had not moved from his perch in heaven. Resolutely watching over his fathers children from high above. And then he was ordered to move.

Slipping into the vessel had been easy. The man was devout and willing and he didn't even have a family. He found his charge with ease, and convinced her quickly of who he was. Prophets were generally easy to convince. He had done what he had to save her, and was trapped in heaven for his disobedience. Forced to watch as his charge was slaughtered and her children taken. Forced to watch that scum Alistair work over the one he could not answer.

He did not regret what he did to save his charge, or the lives of her children. He did not regret visiting _her_, holding her in his arms and feeling. He felt love when he looked into her awed eyes. He held her close and watched her try to fathom his grace, when she could not see her own.

He watched her fight, writhe on a metal slab and cry out. He watched her grow, her beauty falling into perfect place and her strength keeping her alive. He watched all the times she should have broken. The times when she called out for salvation from any God who could listen. The times when she prayed to _him_, when he could not answer her. He watched in agony as the other angels looked on with no pity, just distaste.

And still he could not be rid of his love for her. As he watched her grow in the sunlight, become cold and calculated he could not shake the bond he felt to her. When he was sent back to Earth, to pull the chosen one from the pits of hell, he let her sleep easy. He guided the brothers to her and let them heal her, the way only they could. He controlled himself. Brought himself back from wanting to through his arms around her and tell her it would be okay.

He was an angel, loving her would do him no good. He had fallen for the justice the brothers fought for, but he was still loyal. Loyalty to his father was something he could not throw away. So he told himself he could not love her. He could not love Katherine DeLaroux. Just like he should not have felt anything but duty for her mother.

But then he was with her. He was listening to her voice and trying to keep himself from flying to her. He was trying with all he had to keep himself away from her, communicating with Dean when he was alone. And then he healed her, and saw the same raw awe and adoration as he did when she was a child. The way she had fit so easily into his arms, and the way she had admired his wings. Didn't she care about her own? She was the only angel he had ever really known. The only one who had suffered the way his father had hoped for them never to suffer.

No, he shouldn't love her. But he did. He loved her for all the things she was and all the things she would be. He loved her for the way she looked at Dean. He loved her for the way she mothered Sam. He loved her for the way she relied on Bobby. He loved her for the way she forgave him.

He knew loving her like he did was wrong. He wasn't supposed to feel, it went against the fundamental truth of his existence. But he didn't really care. Because the truth was, he loved his daughter very much.


	78. Chapter 78

**Hey guys! I love you guys so much and your reviews were awesome! here are a few more chapters for ya! –Han**

He heard his charge call his name. And let his large wings spread outward, preparing to fly.

"Cas?" he called again hesitantly. The sun was beating down on his back, but it felt good. A light breeze was blowing back his flannel shirt and his hands were deep in his jeans pockets.

"Yes Dean?" Came the gruff reply. Green eyes caught blue and held. Dean was staring down the angel.

"He told her," he said shortly. He had kept the secret since Kat had spilled her own. For the angel. But now she knew, most of it anyway, and he wouldn't let it jeopardize what he had, or could have, with her.

"I know," Castiel replied, his eyes on the ground. His shoulders were hunched slightly and he looked very tired.

"And…what are you going to do?"

"I don't know, Dean." There was an edge of hopelessness in his voice. An edge he had never heard before. He could do many things, as an angel, and fear was never an issue. But he was afraid.

"You have to tell her," Dean said slowly.

"I know."

"She won't hate you. She might be upset…but she won't hate you," Dean offered.

"You cannot possibly know that."

"Just like I didn't know that she would like you?" Dean asked sarcastically, referring to the time when he was too scared to even appear in front of her.

Cas blew out a sigh. "It's not the same!" Dean blinked, offering nothing more than truth. He had to do it. There was no way he could get around it. She deserved to know. "Fine."

Dean nodded his consent and walked back inside. He found the three of them pouring over books. Bobby looked to be absolutely consumed by what he was reading, while Kat just looked desperate.

"Here it says that any sort of indication of a Nephilim, like powers or something, they don't appear for sometimes years. Other people need a specific catalyst," Sam read aloud.

"Is there a difference if the Nephilim was created through conception or if it was by blood ritual?" Kat asked. Bobby shrugged and Dean and Cas stepped into the room.

"How goes the hunt?" Dean asked casually, falling down onto the couch. Kat looked up and gave him a bleak look.

"This is the most confusing thing I've ever looked up. There are so many myths, it's impossible to tell which are real!" She cried frustrated.

"What is the definition of one anyway?" Dean asked.

"It translates in Christianity as the offspring of a son of God and a daughter of man. In Hebrew they're some type of freaky ancient warriors, which are in fact _not_ in God's good graces," she explained. Her forehead was crinkled and her hand was running repeatedly through her long hair.

"That part is true," Castiel provided. "At least, they are not in the graces of the other angels."

"Well, I think it's safe to say God doesn't mind," Kat mumbled to herself. She was met by four odd stares. She shifted uncomfortably and searched her mind for a decent answer. "Wouldn't I have been like…smite-ed at birth?" she rushed to say, her head tilted to the side.

Castiel nodded his understanding and shuffled slightly. "The angel was punished though," he said quietly. Now four pairs of eyes were on him. He perched himself on the edge of a chair and sighed. "They were barred from Earth, unable to answer any prayers from the child.

"Until it was time to raise the Chosen One." His voice was now a whisper, his eyes looking imploringly at Kat. She had stiffened, staring him down. She forced her double vision to focus on the vessel. She had always been so busy looking at the light and the wings, she had taken no notice to the color of his eyes. That icy, vibrant blue.

She picked up the picture that contained her father and saw the eyes. She looked back up at Cas and her face hardened.

"Why do your eyes look like his?" she asked in a dead voice.

"It is the trademark of my angelic form. Every angel's is different," he explained.

"So…this is you. In another body. With my mother. In this picture," Kat said slowly. The angel nodded and Kat seemed to sag against Dean. He wrapped a reassuring arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

"Cas…please…just explain," she said softly. There was a defeated air to her, like she had just decided to give up. Like she just didn't care.

"I was assigned to protect your mother," he said his eyes on his hands, which were twining and untwining. The room was silent. Kat, Sam, and Bobby stared at the angel with rapt attention. Dean just looked at Kat, watching her eyes. They were carefully masked, showing nothing. But he knew on the inside she was dying. "She fell pregnant and she saw in her dreams that the birth would kill her and the children. Neither she nor the doctors knew that one of the twins had not made it. That it would be still born."

Kat nodded, encouraging him to speak. "It was my idea. I knew of a ritual that would give her enough of my grace to make her strong. I shouldn't have done it," he turned his eyes to her, pleading with her. "I had begun to care for her as I have come to care for all of you. What I did…I acted on impulse. And while I allowed her to live…long enough to bear you, Jamie, and your younger sister, I also enabled her death. And for that I am sorry," he said. Kat nodded her understanding. "I kept it a secret from my superiors for two years, and visited Hannah and you sparingly. And then Zachariah found out." His expression bleak and tired.


	79. Chapter 79

"How?" She asked, her voice careful and hesitant.

"You were very little when he became suspicious of me. He visited your house, and your reaction to his wigs were enough proof," he said sadly. "He kept me from Earth, and I spent the next twenty years trying to regain my standing in the ranks…and watching you."

"So, You. Are. My. Father?" She asked, taking a deep breath after each word. Dean thought she was going into shock. He pulled her to his lap and placed a hand on either side of her face, forcing her to look at him. Her eyes were wide and her pupils were dilating. Her hands were shaking and her breathing was shallow and weak.

"For lack of a better word," the angel confirmed. He was watching her carefully, wishing he could comfort her, and having no idea how to. Humans were strange creatures. When Dean needed comfort, he turned to liquor and a hunt. When Sam needed it, he divulged his emotions. The angel had never known Bobby to need comfort. Katherine was different entirely. He could not predict how she would react to anything. Dean seemed to be the only one that could touch her with out silently asking for permission. He did not feel comfortable attempting to comfort her the way Dean did. He trusted the man enough to look after her.

Dean was staring at her. Forcing her to look into his green-gold eyes. Her eyes slid closed as she attempted to get a grip on her raging emotions. First her father was dead. Then she didn't know who it was. Then it could be supernatural. Now it was an angel she had known for a month?

When she opened her eyes again, she read Dean's face. His simple 'get a grip' look was enough to make her push away the primary emotions. She had no idea how to calm herself. But his unyielding hands on the side of her face told her she didn't have a choice. His hands were warm. The long fingers tangling in her hair. The calluses scratching slightly against her skin.

She started counting freckles. The small dots looking almost comically perfect on the tan beautiful face. And dammit he was beautiful. It should be a crime for a man to be that beautiful. Dean smirked, almost guessing her thoughts as he watched her wide eyes roam his face with something close to awe.

He did the same to her, completely forgetting the other men in the room. There was a small scar on her chin, thin and short. Another on her hairline, the white skin slightly glossy in the light. When her breathing slowed and became even, he poked her gently.

"Forty even," she said suddenly. Her eyes found Dean's and she blushed slightly.

"Were you counting freckles again?"

"…yes," she admitted. Sam let out a breathy chuckle to the right of her and she snapped her head to him, as if just remembering he was there. "Hi Sam."

Sam frowned. He had been there the whole time. Whatever Dean had done to stop the panic attack had left her dazed. Bobby rolled himself closer to her as Kat slid off of Dean's lap and back onto her spot on the couch.

She looked at Cas unflinchingly and scrutinized him carefully. "I guess it could be worse," she started slowly. "I could be Zachariah's daughter," she muttered. "From what Dean had told me he is a… what did you call it? A dick with wings?"

"Damn straight. Bastard gave me stomach cancer," he said moodily. Kat's eyebrows rose, but she nodded. She looked to the angel, whose tense stance had relaxed. "I know why you didn't tell me when we first met…I would've left," she said. "That doesn't mean I'm happy about it. You could have told me earlier."

"I know. But I did not want you to have to bear the knowledge," the angel replied. Kat turned to look at Dean and narrowed her eyes at him.

"You knew didn't you?" She asked in a harsh tone. Dean squirmed.

"How'd you guess?"

"Sam and Bobby are still speechless. You're calm," she explained. Her eyes were still hard.

"He…told me a while back…just after you um…killed Alistair," he admitted, closing his eyes tightly. He flinched back into the couch, waiting for the explosion. Who knew caring would be this difficult?

"And you didn't tell me. Why?"

"He asked me not to."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

He opened his eyes and saw Kat in front of him. "He's your friend. I get it. I'm not happy about it. But I get it."

"Thank God," he mumbled. Sam finally found his voice.

"How are you just okay with this?" he asked incredulously.

"Oh I'm not. I just found out that my life has been a lie," Kat said, looking at him. "But I'm focusing on the plus side."

"What plus side?" he asked.

"My father is the only angel who gives a damn about humanity," she said shrugging, trying out the word on her lips. It seemed almost…normal? She looked to Castiel and smiled softly at the slight glint in his eyes at the sound.

Sam just nodded. Bobby was still quiet, his eyes almost remorseful. "Don't you dare, Bobby," Kat said suddenly, looking at him. "You're still the only real father I've ever known. This doesn't change that," she said forcefully. He nodded and held the bridge of his nose.

"You're taking this way to well," he said grumpily.

Kat didn't answer. Truth was, she _wasn't_ taking it well. The only reason why she wasn't breaking down was…well, she didn't really have a reason. Honestly, she thought it might've been Dean. His hands had brought her back from drowning in her own thoughts. His eyes had commanded her to get a grip. He was the rock she needed to cling to, to stay afloat.

"I am sorry," Castiel spoke up. She looked at him, stood from the couch, and approached the angel. Cas was expecting her to slap him. To hit him. To stab him, even. He couldn't read the emotion in her eyes and it frightened him.

Then she wrapped her arms around the angel and held him close. She knew she should be mad, but mostly she was hurt. She had lived her entire life, thinking her father was the man she had known as a child. And now she finds him, the real him, and he doesn't tell her. The Devil had to. But she held him close anyway. Because she knew he was worried for her. Had worried over her for years. It was clear he had been beyond afraid of how she would react. He knew little of humanity as it was, and Kat wasn't your average human.

Sometimes she didn't even know how she would react to something. Usually she absorbed it. Buried it away so deep, she would never have to see it again. Except in nightmares.

The top of her head fit into the hollow of his throat and she sighed. The angel raised his arms, awkwardly wrapping around her as best as he could. His rough cheek rested on her head and he breathed in deeply. She didn't hate him. He didn't think he would be able to handle that.

He was not used to this feeling, but he thought it was content. The last time he really felt it was when he held her, all those years ago. She was still just as fascinated with his grace. Still so oblivious to her own. Still so childlike.

Dean thought she got the childlike qualities from Cas. They both had the head tilt thing. They were both fascinated by the most mundane things. And they both stared at him. That creepy 'holier than thou' stare that made him think they saw his soul. He didn't like it, but he didn't _not_ like it. Especially not when it came from her.

He should probably control that. The random thoughts of her that took him away from reality. It was her fault. She made him think of her and it made him uncomfortable. Didn't help that she was always doing _something _to catch his attention. Like now, hugging an angel? Who did that?

When they pulled apart, the tension in the room seemed to have lifted. Bobby was watching her carefully, gauging her reaction to continuing. She scrubbed her eyes and collapsed on the couch, looking years older than she was. Sam gripped her hand for a moment, before picking up where he left off on his book.

Castiel settled back into the chair and looked at the people around him. "Nephilim are incredibly rare," he started. They all looked back up at him and waited. "You are a very different case. Most of them come into the essence of their power at a particular age. But for you, the majority of them are locked away."

"The majority?" she asked, her head tilting.

"Some of them leaked out because of Alistair," he said the name with venom. "Your fighting abilities and the singing."

"My voice is angel mojo?" she asked in an incredulous voice.

"It's your grace presenting itself. You have a form, and do not need a vessel, but your body cannot contain all of the power," he explained. "It is detectable through your eyes and your voice."

"That isn't weird at all," she muttered sarcastically.

"It isn't?" Cas asked, his head tilting as hers did a minute ago. She waved him off, chuckling slightly.

"So, how else am I 'different'?" she asked.

"You require a catalyst in order to access your grace," Castiel said.

"And mine would be?" she trailed off.

"Dean."

"Me?" Dean asked sharply, pulling himself from his musings.

"Yes, you."

"Why?" Dean asked roughly. Sam looked up, remembering what Lucifer had said.

"Lucifer said it was because we were both…um…broken," Kat supplied. Dean looked at her sharply and sighed. "Because we had both been through Hell."

"Yes. It is very rare to find two people who have been through that for the right reasons," he looked at both of them. "Most people in Hell deserve it."

"Um, He said that's why um…it…" she trailed off, looking helplessly to Cas. He looked utterly confused until she gestured wildly to her back.

"Your wings."


	80. Chapter 80

**And another one, because no one can take it THAT well. -Han**

"I. Have. Wings?" the pauses after each word were back The angel moved to say something, but she stood up and stood further away from them. "I…I just need to process this," she whispered. She needed to be alone. Now. She rushed out the door, not listening to the shouts from the three men. The angel was silent, hating himself. He wished he could tell her anything to make it better. But those two little words, had pushed her over the edge, and she couldn't handle any more.

She ran to through the maze that was the Salvage yard until she could no longer see the house. She slumped against a decrepit car and screamed out her frustration. Why couldn't she just be normal? Wasn't it bad enough that she was tortured for eleven goddamned years? Now she was a mutant freak. With wings.

She already had wings. And she liked them just fine thank you very much. She didn't need any others. She didn't want any others.

She ran a free hand through her hair and grit her teeth. She couldn't handle this. This was too much. She had spent her life drifting. No responsibility, no care. And now she had a heavenly father and a reason to be. Her hands gripped the rusty side of a car and she had the sudden urge to lash out at it. She tried to quiet it, but only managed to scream again and turn, slamming herself into the car. Her hands lay flat against the window and she breathed deeply.

She didn't want this. Didn't need this. And the rest of them didn't need her. Did they want her? She pulled back her body, and let her hand shoot forward. Her fist flew through the already cracked glass with force and she hissed at the pain. It felt good. The searing burning kind of pain that successfully blocked out any other thought. Except of course 'that hurt like a bitch'. Which it did.

She gave a raw sort of smile and slid to the ground, her back against the car and her bleeding hand palm down on the ground. She went about picking bits of glass out of her hand, marveling at the clear specs. The blood and glass made strange patterns on the ground and she was fascinated by them.

Jamie used to tell her that she could be fascinated by anything. He would catch her looking intently at a billboard some days, like it was the most important thing in the world. Other times he would have to shake her, to get her attention in diners, where she would watch the patrons like a hawk. She could find something interesting in anyone. That was one thing Blake had liked about her. When he asked her what she was looking at, she would point out something about someone.

That person had the most vibrant eyes. This person was in love with that person, but too scared to say anything. That person had scars on their arm, and she wondered what from. That person was pregnant, only a few weeks and hadn't told her boyfriend yet.

She could always find something to be fascinated by. Now it was the way the blood and glass played together before her eyes. She didn't even look up when she heard footsteps. She knew by the pattern of steps, the slight swagger, that it was Dean. No one else walked quite like him. When she heard his sharp intake of breath, she still didn't look up.

"What did you do?" he breathed, kneeling down in front of her. She looked up then, her eyes meeting his. Hers were red, but fry, anger and fear playing across them. Her cheeks were flushed and her expression was hard. He took her bloody hand in both of his and turned it over, inspecting it.

"Punched the window," she said through gritted teeth. If it was anyone else, she wouldn't have answered. If it was anyone else, she wouldn't have even looked at them. But this was Dean. And he made her do stupid things. "What do I do?" she asked.

"We need to bandage it," he started, seeing a few miniscule pieces she hadn't gotten out.

"No, What do I _do_?"

"I don't know," he sighed, moving to sit beside her. "You could bitch about it a while longer. No one would be upset with you if you did," he informed her. "Or you could go back inside and work this out."

"Third option?" she asked, tucking her head between her knees. Dean chuckled and rubbed her back.

"Let me fix your hand and we'll go out," he said, still looking concerned by the blood. She nodded, her head still between her legs. She heard him get up and walk away, knowing he was getting the med-kit from the Impala. When he came back, she offered her hand.

His touch was surprisingly gentle, the rough skin dancing across hers. There was an almost adoring way he touched her. Like she was made of something precious. His eyes were rapt on her wound, being sure to take out every small piece of glass, cleaning it for her, and wrapping it. When he looked back up at her, he was surprised to see the look in her eyes. It was something like awe.

Very few people ever looked at him like that. Like he was something rare and amazing. That was sometimes the look people he saved wore. But it was generally directed at Sam. He got shoved to the side as too abrasive, too mean, too…him. But she, she looked at him like he was the sun. Brighter than that maybe.

Kat felt shivers roll down her spine as he brushed her hand. His skin against hers made her feel like she was on fire. But in a good way. And the gentleness he had shown her had made her think of family. This must be how he treated Sam. With a care and devotion that went to his soul. She knew very few people like that. He was something else. Something good. Something pure.

He smiled that heartbreaking kind of smile. She felt herself brushing her hand on his cheek, feeling the stubble, and letting her fingers skin across his skin. "Thank you," she whispered. He helped her up and they walked together towards the Impala. Their escape.

When she was seated comfortably in the passengers seat, she cranked up the volume and let Back in Black blast through the speakers. Dean glanced at her and smiled, before hoarsely singing along, practically screaming. She shook her head and joined him, forcing her voice to be more like shouting. There wasn't the same lyrical quality, because she didn't want there to be one. They were just having fun, almost choking on their laughter.

Her head tipped back and she smiled as she realized she had completely forgotten for a moment. What she was running from.

"Batman?" she asked. He turned down the music and looked at her. "What am I going to do?" she asked again.

"I think you mean, what are we going to do," he said smirking. She tilted her head and wrinkled her brow. "We're with you all the time, if it's your problem, it's our problem."

"I can't push my problems onto you," she moaned.

"Yes you can. And you will. Because I'm going to help you," he said firmly.

"How?"

"I have no freakin' idea."

"Great."

"Hey," he said suddenly, she looked over at him and nodded. "Do you _want _to find your powers or whatever?" he asked hesitantly.

"It would make me useful," she whispered.

"You are already!"

It was quiet a long time. Just long enough for Dean to wonder if he shouldn't have said that. And then; "I could have saved Jo." the whisper was small and broken and desperate.

"I should never…I shouldn't have…I know you couldn't…" he tried to say. He felt like the dick of the week. He had put some form of guilt on her that she never needed and did not deserve.

"I understand," she said, smiling at him. She shook herself. "But, yes…I think I do want to. It's a part of me and I want to use it," she said firmly.

"Okay then. We'll ask Cas the best way to access it. You know…you're taking this pretty well," he said.

"I like Cas. He's…" she trailed off looking out the window. "He's a good guy. He reminds me a lot of you."

"Like me?" Dean snorted.

"Yes. Unwavering devotion to his father, and a complete sense of what's right. He's willing to go to the ends of the earth to do what he knows is right. Sound familiar?" she asked sarcastically. Dean grunted and shrugged moodily.

"Shut up."

"Fine, sorry I pushed," she said smirking.

"Seriously though?" he asked, looking at her.

"Yea, he's a great guy, just like you. I'm…I'm glad he's my father," she glanced at Dean. "It means my father's alive. You have no idea how much that means to me," she whispered.

"I…"

"I've lived most of my life thinking they were dead. And now…it's him. And it could be so much worse. And I have a family, Dean. An honest to God family," she cut him off in a hushed tone. Her voice held a note of reverence that made Dean smile.

"And we want to help you," he added. She nodded and smiled brightly.

"Alright, I get it. But just because you let me escape," she said teasing. He laughed and nodded. He loved how she could do that. Turn around a serious situation in an instant. It made him smile and it made him happy to have her close.

The rational part of his brain was screaming at him to keep her at arms length. He needed to keep a lid on the ever growing feelings he had for her. He could get by with liking her. He could get by with lusting her. But he was terrified it would grow. And then what?

But the rest of him wanted her close. Wanted her with him. Wanted her. And she didn't seem to mind. And that was probably the most dangerous thing. If she still flinched from his touch, he might have an easier time containing himself. But sadly, nothing was ever easy for Dean Winchester.


	81. Chapter 81

**This is specially for **_**xxmaskedchickxx **_**who I know has been needing a fix. I am happy to provide! All my love! –Han**

The bartender greeted Dean heartily as he walked through the door. The man had not been much of a talker, but he had ordered for the drinks to keep coming, and that was just fine by him. He smiled warmly at the girl he had brought it tow. He noticed there was a certain light in the way he looked at her, a light he knew all too well. The girl looked oblivious, tired, and weak. Whatever had happened to her, had certainly taken it's toll.

When Dean sank into a bar stool, ushering Kat to sit beside him, the bartender approached them. "Rough night again, sir?" he drawled. Dean just nodded, slapping a few bills on the polished wood and ordering for the both of them. "I'm going to need to see ID on that one," he said indicating the girl. She had turned her back to the bar, and was looking out to the patrons with a pensive look on her face.

Dean nudged her and she grumbled, fished in her back pocket for a drivers license. The barman nodded his approval and continued to pour the drinks. "Name's Jim, miss," he said politely.

"Kat," she replied, taking the shot and downing it. He poured another. Jim tried to think of something to say, but when she looked at him, he saw the pent up sadness and distress. He turned sharply to Dean.

"What did you do to this girl?" he asked in a hushed whisper as she tuned them out again. Dean glanced at him.

"Thanks for the vote of confidence man, but this time…it wasn't me," he said tiredly. For some reason, Jim didn't buy it. Maybe it was the attention he collected from the women. Maybe it was the sly smiles and easy smirks. Maybe it was how dead he had seemed the night before. But he didn't buy it. "I'm serious. She has a lot going on in her life," he said sighing. She seemed to come back to the world as she asked kindly for the bottle and retreated to a corner. Dean didn't follow her, knowing she needed the time to think it through.

"Anything to do with why you were in last night?" Jim asked.

"A little of everything," Dean sighed heavily.

"And you love her?" Jim asked, as if it wasn't really a question, merely a fact. Dean's eyes shot up and held the old man's. His shoulders were tense and he felt his head shake with out his confirmation.

"No," he said with force. He sighed again and leaned heavily against the bar.

"Lying won't get you anywhere," Jim told him smiling.

"I don't! I…I can't. It's bad enough that I like her at all," Dean trailed off, muttering more to himself than anything. The bartender appraised him carefully. The man in front of him was clearly a man with many problems. He looked like he carried the weight of the world on his broad shoulders. There were dark circles beneath his eyes and faint scars running up exposed arms. The short hair and calluses on his hands were enough to tell the old man that he was standing before a warrior. He should know, he had served in the first Gulf War.

The old man sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. He chose his words with precision. "It isn't so bad you know," he started. Dean looked back up at the man and gave him a serious, but confused look. "Lovin' someone. It's hard, specially when you know you're going to war," Dean's look was sharp and the man laughed. "Takes one to know one kid, I'm a retired Marine." Dean nodded and relaxed again. "You have to know that you could get hurt, and you're thinking she could get hurt. And you're thinking about her and it'll distract you. And it'll hurt to be away from them and it'll hurt to be with them cause you know you wont be for long…but it's worth it. It's worth it to have them look at you like you're the only thing in the world. Even if it's just a day, it's worth it," Jim got a faraway look as he continued. "Trust me kid, you stick to your high and mighty morals about not wanting to hurt her and you'll be miserable the rest of your life. You'll realize it at the last possible moment, and you know what'll happen then?" he asked.

Dean shook his head.

"It'll be too little, too late. And you'll never see her again," he finished gruffly. Dean glanced at him and took another much needed drink.

"That's not it though…not all of it," he whispered. "I'm not worth it. She shouldn't…not that she ever would anyway. She's been through too much. Seen too much. So have I. I've seen way too much. Done too much," he rambled. The old man eyed him and nodded his understanding.

"What do you do for a living?" Jim asked.

"Little of everything," Dean answered easily, slightly jarred by the sudden change in topic. Jim gave a wry grin. He had been bartending in Sioux Falls since he'd gotten back from the war. Now he was fifty something and knew a bit about enough.

"If you do what I think you do, then I understand," he offered, cleaning a glass. Dean looked up sharply and Jim grinned at him. "Doesn't change what I said," he added.

Dean sighed and took another shot. It didn't matter what the bartender said, he didn't deserve love. He didn't know what he had done in Hell. The things he had seen. The ways he had enjoyed it. He didn't know how the razor had been his first choice. He didn't know how much it sickened him the first time. He didn't know how seriously he considered changing his answer. He didn't know that in the end he was a coward. He didn't know that it only took four of the ten years he tortured, for him to look forward to it. Only four.

He didn't know that he spent many nights wishing he could just give up. He didn't know that if it wasn't for his small and rapidly deteriorating family, he already would have. He didn't know he held a woman in his arms every night, and prayed she would never see him like he was in Hell. He didn't know that every time he touched her, he went out of his way to be gentle, and he still remembered the souls he had tortured.

How could Jim the informed barman possibly know of that?


	82. Chapter 82

**One more, but give me a few hours and I might do another! Please Review! –Han**

He figured Kat had enough time alone and the brooding was beginning to wear on him. He slid across from her and nursed his beer. He pretended not to notice the sad look in her eyes or the way her hand gripped the bottle like a life line. He offered her an impish smile and nodded his head to the music.

Kat was running on empty. Her reserves of hidden strength were running dry and she was having trouble seeing a reason for continuing. The old argument kept coming back. They didn't really need her. Just as she was sure of this, Dean plopped down across from her and graces her with a grin.

She jerked herself from her thoughts and tried to return it. He reached across the table and she stiffened. He only took her whiskey and took a swig. "Paws off Winchester," she said teasingly, taking it back.

He scoffed and smirked at her. When he noticed her eyes beginning to glaze over, he jumped up and pulled her with him. She glared at him hotly until she realized he was leading her towards the pool table.

"Ready to have your ass kicked?" he asked. She only nodded. "Are you that bad?"

"I'm not what one would call 'good'. Let's leave it at that," she suggested picking up a pool cue. She looked at it apprehensively. "Is it bad when the stick is taller than me?" she asked. Dean suffocated a laugh. The cue was indeed an inch or so taller than her.

"You are a midget," he informed her seriously. He ducked away from the teasing swat she sent his way.

"I'm not that short! You're just a giant!"

"I'm not the giant. Sam's the giant!" he grumbled.

"Sam's only like three inches taller than you!" she said indigently. He sighed and began explaining the game to her. Her look of honest to god confusion had him smirking.

"How do I know you're not hustling me?" he asked as he leaned over to break.

"Because I didn't bring any money and I'm not going to bet anything non monetary," she said leaning on the cue. He smiled and nodded. He broke, sinking two striped and went about his work.

It seemed like forever before it was finally her turn. She understood the basics of the game, and went about lining up her shot. She almost laughed out loud when she felt Dean situate himself behind her. "How did I know you would do that?" she asked lightly as he leaned over her. He moved her shoulders with light touches and swiveled her hips against his. He leaned over her and let his long fingers brush her arm.

"Because I'm awesome," he chuckled. "Now…deep breath, and forward," he whispered. Her arm shot forward, taking the cue with it. She actually jumped with delight as she sunk the ball.

"Yes!" she shouted hugging Dean around his middle. He chuckled and she felt it vibrate through his chest. She stepped back, blushing lightly and awkwardly ducked her head. He ruffled her hair and let her line up the next shot.

Dean thought she would have been more upset with him. He had been looking for an excuse to press himself against her in a less than innocent way. The feel of her body pressed against her made his skin feel hot and flushed. She fit to him perfectly, so perfectly it scared him. He instructed her with professional ease, he had been doing this the majority of his life, but he couldn't ignore the blooming warmth in his being.

They played for hours, until both forgot why they were there in the first place. Kat continued to generally suck at pool while Dean warded off unwanted attention from inebriated men. Kat, of course, had no idea they were paying her mind, but Dean kept a watchful eye on them. Most of them backed away quick enough when Dean slid closer to her or wrapped an arm around her waist. Others took threatening glances and glares. But most left them alone.

Sometimes a song would come on that Dean knew and he would pull on her wrists until she swayed and he'd purposefully sing off-key until she was doubled over in laughter. Her long hair would spill over her shoulders and her eyes would sparkle and Dean couldn't help but feel accomplished. He was sure no one made her laugh as much as he did, and it made him proud.

He would take the opportunity to skim his fingers up her arms and ruffle her hair. And he would laugh as she swatted his hands away and do it again two or three minutes later. She would dance around him, teasingly with out even knowing it, and sing along with him, off-key as well. And sometimes she would look at him, a strange look that made him wonder if he was imagining it. She would stop and her eyes would meet his and it looked like she was only seeing him. Like he was the most important thing.

But he had to have been imagining that.

Kat was using Dean as her lifeline. He was keeping her firmly in reality and she needed it. His touch sent shivers up her spine and his antics had her gasping around fits of laughter. And when things would settle down, she would look at him and try to convey it all. Her thanks and admiration. He knew when she was slipping again and would slip in a sarcastic remark or poke fun at her and it would bring her back. He kept her engaged and there and it made her happy. Really happy, to be with him. She couldn't tell him that, though. That would be too weird. It would upset their already fragile relationship. It was best to try and keep it silent.

How would she say it anyway? She didn't know how to properly convey her thanks, much less explain how he was the only person she saw in the entire bar. No matter how hard she tried, her eyes would drift back to him. Every one else was blurry and unimportant, but he was clear and real. She had no idea how to tell him that.

When it was time to go, Kat bounced happily out to the car. She was spinning and grabbing Dean's hand and dragging him with her. He went easily, laughing at her and with her. He slid into the drivers' seat and smiled when he saw her immediately bouncing to a song on the radio. He had to focus to keep his eyes on the road, as they kept flitting to her.

He had learned lots about her tonight, during their effortless conversations. She had seen the majority of kids movies because she had never had a childhood. She honestly believed in dragons and the fey, much to his amusement. She preferred Japanese to Chinese. She absolutely hated soccer, and though liked to watch it, couldn't play football to save her life. The majority of what she knew about history came from movies, which she admits probably wasn't the best source of information. And she was adamant in her comparison of himself and the character Jack Sparrow. He thought back to it, recalling the seriousness of her face.

"Yes you are! Think about it!" she said indigently. "You both steal for a living, don't lie, you know you do. You're both complete horn dogs," he had laughed loudly at her choice of words. "You're both sneaky little things, you always have a plan, or can think of one quickly. You're both sarcastic and thrive on wit. You're both completely gorgeous," he thought that one had slipped out. "And you're damn good at what you do!"

He just laughed until she looked ready to come up with another argument, and simply held up his hands in surrender. But she still added quietly, "And even though you both act like asses, you're good guys…with good hearts."

He smiled a bit, remembering the conversation and the soft look in her eyes when she ended it. Good heart? He didn't think so, but there was such conviction in her face, that he didn't bother fighting it. He hadn't seen any of the pirate movies, but now he felt he had to. He resolved to get them off of Sam's computer one of these days.

Kat grew steadily quieter as they approached the Salvage Yard. They had been out since early afternoon, and now it was close to one in the morning. She had no idea how Dean had managed to keep her occupied for that long. Normally she would have either gotten bored, or fallen into depression.

She knew she would have to face it now, what she was running from. She would have to face the pain and the fear. God the fear. She was afraid of herself. Something she had rarely experienced. This was honest to God fear of a part of her. Something she could never be rid of and could never run from. That had to be the worst part. She could never get enough distance. It was inside of her.

But she had not lied to Dean when she said she wanted to use it. She wanted to be connected to that part of herself. She didn't know how she could explain it to Dean, but it felt like she had a stranger in her body. Like there was some vast entity she had never noticed before, that had clawed its way into the forefront of her mind. She couldn't ignore it, and she didn't want to feel that way. She didn't want to feel like she was divided with in herself. She wanted to be whole.

Dean was thinking about Hell. He couldn't have told you why he was suddenly pulled under by the assaulting memories. Maybe some part of his conscious was telling him he was having too much fun. He was too happy. He could feel it taunting him. _Those souls you left in Hell aren't having fun. How do you live with yourself? How can you look at Kat and want her? You don't deserve to want anything. You're evil, wrong, weak, disgusting. No one would ever want someone like you. Did you think Kat would? Ha! You only wish!_

He could smell the sickening scent of exposed internal organs, feel the blood coating his greedy fingers. He could hear their never ending screams. Some part of his pride grew with the fact that now, he felt nothing but pure revulsion. Nothing but a sick feeling in his being. That was a start…right?

He couldn't help but agree with that cynical voice in his head, though. The one that told him that he could never have Kat. Even if she returned his hesitant feelings, he would never act on them. She was victim. He was torture master. They could never be. He would spend his life remembering a time when his touch had been brutal, not gentle. She would be blissfully ignorant and it would drive him to his knees. He would spend his life in shame. Knowing he didn't deserve the love she gave.

Of course, she probably didn't even like his anyway. So there was no need to worry.


	83. Chapter 83

**Hey guys! I'm pretty sure it'll only be this one tonight, because I'm not happy with the next few pages just yet. This one I'm good with. Tell me what ya think! All my love- Han**

When he pulled into the Lot, he wasn't surprised to see Sam on the front porch. The kid could worry over anyone. Now that he had Kat, he was constantly the mother hen, even while she was mothering him. It was funny watching the two of them trying to force the other to eat extra helpings of dinner.

Sam's broad shoulders were hunched slightly as he watched the Impala roll into the lot. He'd been worried for the two of them for hours. He knew, of course, that Dean would take perfectly good care of her, but he still wanted her there. Where he could worry over her more efficiently.

When she stepped out of the car, he knew two things. One, Dean had managed to make her have fun. He could see the ghost of a smile etched on her face and in her eyes. Two, she was doing some heavy thinking. The kind that made you look deep inside yourself and could potentially screw a lot up.

When he saw Dean, he did a double take. The man too had that look, like he had managed to have fun. But it went deeper than that, it was something close to shame. For having fun? Sam couldn't begin to understand what his brother had gone through in Hell, but he could see the times when he thought of it. His features would harden and his eyes would loose their light. Sam knew his brother better than anyone, but when he thought about Hell, he felt so far away. He had no idea how to help.

Dean seemed to have arrived at some saddening conclusion. One that settled on his shoulders along with every other thing he had to deal with. Sam wished he could help, but he just didn't see how.

Kat smiled at him as she approached and his eyes drifted to the bandaged hand. She waved him off, her eyes pleading with him to drop it. So he didn't say anything. They walked back inside, and Kat was shocked to see Castiel still standing there. Stoic as ever.

"You are back," he stated, watching her carefully.

"Yea, Cas," she said softly. He nodded, unsure of what to do. She sat cross legged on the couch and looked at the angel. "So, how do I access the angel-fu?" she asked.

Castiel was confused for a moment, before realizing that she meant her grace. He was dazzled for a moment, at how alike she and Dean were. "It is a long process," he warned. She nodded seriously and he continued. "You will have to meditate for days," he added.

"Yup, we're screwed," Kat and Dean said in sync. Both of them knew that she couldn't keep her attention on anything for longer than a minute when she wasn't hunting. "Either way we're not doing anything else tonight, I'm about to pass out," Kat informed them logically. Cas moved to her quickly.

"Do you feel faint?" he asked seriously.

"No, I just mean I'm tired," she explained patiently. The angel blushed and nodded, stepping away from her. Kat pried herself away from the couch and made for the stairs. "Goodnight Cas," she whispered.

"Goodnight Katherine," he said solemnly. She smiled, shaking her head and walking past him. She paused to hug Sam and let Dean lead her to bed. She cuddled to Dean sleepily, sighed as her skin met his.

"Much better," she mumbled. Dean chuckled beneath her and she felt it rumble through her.

"Glad to know I can't be replaced," he tried to tease, but there was a hint of seriousness beneath it. Kat picked her head off of is chest lazily and propped herself up on her elbows. Dean squirmed under her intense gaze and tried to laugh it off. Then she shifted further.

Dean was fairly sure he had stopped breathing when she moved to straddle him. Her legs trapped his on either side, and her hands rested on either side of his face. Her back was bowed, bringing her face within inches of his. Her long hair fell around her face and onto his and her gold chain hung from her neck, the wings brushing his chest.

He brought himself back to the present, only to get lost again in her eyes. The blue was all consuming, and he could see a faint silver ring shooting just around the pupil. Her dusky pink lips were drawn in a hard line and he found himself wanting to lean up. It would only be an inch or so. Not far at all.

"If you think…for even a second," she started in a scathing voice. "That I would _replace_ you, you're an idiot."

He squirmed and tried to think of a way out of it. He felt her shift her weight, so one of her hands could cup his cheek. "I-I"

"That's what you thought when you saw Sam and me, wasn't it?" she demanded. He didn't move, just laid there absolutely still. She sighed and her head dropped to the pillow beside him. "You are so stupid," she grumbled, her voice muffled by the pillow.

Dean smothered a laugh in her shoulder and breathed in her scent. Wind and midnight. So he hadn't been going crazy that night so long ago. She moved to look at him again and he made his face serious. "I would never, ever, ever do something like that to you," she whispered.

"Sometimes people don't mean to do the things they do," he felt himself say. Kat looked at him, surprised by his insightfulness and nodded slowly.

"No, sometimes they don't," she admitted. "But I will try my damned hardest."

It was quiet for a long time, and they just stared at each other. She could see the wall slowly coming down behind his eyes and made small circles against his cheek with her thumb.

"Everyone leaves eventually," he whispered, his barely-there voice cracking. She felt tears come to her eyes. She had no idea he was hurting so much. She knew Hell weighed heavily on him, but this went deeper. This was his biggest fear. She pressed her face into the crook of his neck and calmed herself.

When she looked back at him, Dean was shocked to see a sheen of tears in her eyes, along with a fierce determination. "Not me. Not me," she said with conviction. "I may not always be with you, but I'll never really leave," she promised.

"How?" he asked, his voice small and vulnerable.

She looked at him a while longer and moved, sitting back on his thighs. He watched her curiously as she slipped the long gold chain she always wore over her head. He looked at her in confusion as she held the necklace in her hand. The wings at the end dangling in the dark room. She pulled Dean by the shirt until he sat up slightly. She slipped the chain over his head and tucked it beneath his shirt. "There," she whispered. "Now you know, if I ever leave you, it was because I didn't have a choice."

He was nodding, tears coming to his eyes. He smiled when she wiped them away, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his cheek. They lay back down and he felt the comfortably cool metal against his skin. He thought about arguing with her. He thought about telling her to keep it, because it had belonged to her mother and she should have it. But the look in her eyes made it clear she wouldn't take no for an answer. He wished he could give her his amulet, but Cas had taken it in his hunt for God.

"Thank you," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her tightly.

"No problem. You're stuck with me, Batman, I'm not going anywhere," she assured, resting the side of her face on his chest. Dean smiled, because he believed her. He really did. He listened to her breathing slow until he was sure she was asleep, before drifting off himself.


	84. Chapter 84

**I feel like I owe you after only a chapter the other day, so here ya go! Love you guys!**

**-Han**

The next morning there was a hushed sort of depression. Everyone was still mourning over Ellen and Jo and Kat was busy thinking. The boys were going to have to leave. The end of the world wouldn't wait for her to come to terms with her angelic half, and the war still had to be fought. They would leave her there, and go to battle.

She didn't like it. Not at all. She had just promised Dean she would never leave him and now they were leaving her. It's not as if they wanted to, she reminded herself. In fact, both boys had thrown something resembling a tantrum when both a stoic angel and a grumpy hunter told them they were to go. Dean had stalked to the other side of the room, and pouted. But if you told him he was pouting, he still would have kicked your ass. Sam found that out firsthand.

The green-eyed hunter had stared at her, trying to memorize her face. His long fingers worrying the gold wings he now carried around his neck. The other three in the room either had not noticed, or made no comment. She was doing much the same to him, twisting a ring on her finger back and forth.

Anyone else would have though that they were lovers, leaving each other for the first time. Really they were just close, and were afraid they would be leaving each other for the last. Kat was afraid he would die, be gone forever and never return. Dean knew the angels would bring him back. But he was afraid for her. What if becoming that angelic side of her, killed her? What if he came back and she acted differently? What if she wasn't the same?

When The Impala was packed and it was time for the brothers to leave, Kat thought it was like the old movies, when men in uniform were called to war. Sam held her close, crushing her lungs and making her warm.

"We'll see you before you know it," he promised, a slight smile on his puppy-face.

"Call me when your hunt is finished," she ordered. She needed to know they would be okay. Sam nodded and pulled away, allowing her easy access to air. She moved to Dean. His leather jacket thrown casually in the back seat, his flannel over-shirt blowing in the breeze. She hugged him, her arms secure around his neck. Leather, gun-powder, and motor oil. No matter how often he washed, the scents still lingered. Because that was who he was. She breathed it in and smiled. Dean was reliable if anything.

"Bye, Dean," she whispered. Dean pulled back to glare and her and she blinked her confusion.

"Not goodbye," he said shortly. "Goodbye means forever, and I'm coming back," he explained sternly. She smiled wider, her eyes twinkling with amusement.

"Okie Dokie then," she said gazing at him. "I'll see you real soon," she drawled.

"You makin' fun of me?" Dean asked sarcastically.

"Never, Kansas boy," she teased. She hugged him again, this time from around the waist and rested her head on his chest. "Come back," she ordered softly.

"You know I will," he said gruffly. He pecked her cheek and slid into the drivers seat, staring straight ahead. She waved them off, watching the tail-lights disappear into the piles of broken cars.

Kat walked back inside and down to the panic room, which she had already set up. There was enough food and water to last her multiple days and there was nothing to distract her. Castiel appeared beside her and told her to sit on the whit cot in the center of the room.

"Clear your mind," he instructed calmly.

"Easier said than done," she muttered to herself, before closing her eyes and exhaling slowly. She worked slowly, carving away every thought and every feeling until all that was left was darkness. Time went with it, and she was lost in the waves of black.

Every time she felt her mind begin to shift, onto Dean or Sam or the sudden urgent need for Gummie Bears, she would have to start all over. She had no idea how long she was there, but she neither ate nor drank. She just sat cross-legged on the surgical cot with her eyes closed. She was sure that Cas had left at some point, most likely to assist the boys, but the thought did not clearly register in her brain.

Finally, after what felt like years, her mind was completely, blissfully blank. And then there was a light. Kat thought of the saying and decided she ought to stay away from it. But it was pretty. Silver and pulsating and it grew until it was beside the blackness. Half and Half.

"Imagine yourself beside it," Castiel ordered her, reappearing once he was sure she had moved onto the next stage. He watched her anxiously as she sat. She gave no indication that she had heard him, but he felt her grace twitch beneath the surface.

She pictured herself standing at the forefront of the light. She felt somehow nostalgic, but couldn't place it. Her imagined fingers stretched towards the light and she found it cool to the touch. It enveloped her hand like water, sending ripples stemming from her flesh.

She felt fear grip her body like a vice as the light contracted around her hand, making it impossible to pull back. She looked back at the almost tauntingly comfortable darkness before being sucked viciously into the expanse of silver.

*scene*

Castiel had been watching her for four and half weeks. It had taken her two in the trance like state to completely empty her mind. Now he was waiting. The volatile being that was grace was a difficult thing to control. Her mind was at war with the part of herself, fighting for some level of dominance. It was a scary process.

He would flit in some times, to watch over her, and find her laying down on the cot with her back arched so high that only her toes and her head touched the rough cotton. He spent the rest of his time with the Winchesters. Urging them along to defeat Anna as she tried to stop them from being born. Dealing with the after effects of a teenage boy inhabiting Lucifer's vessel.

The weeks had been long and stressed filled and the brothers had noticed the change in the angel. He was reverting back to him old self, unfeeling, bordering on cruel. Of course, Dean was not much better. He had taken it upon himself to do his own research. As it turned out, if Kat couldn't find some sort of balance within her body, she would be killed. Grace was toxic to the body, as he remembered when hearing Castiel's true voice. The essence in the woman's body could kill her faster than blowing out a candle.

He spent most nights up late with a beer in his hand. It had been almost two months since they had left Bobby's and Castiel was not the best informant. He gave short, clipped responses when he asked how she was doing. She never changed. Always the same. His dreams were plagued with images from Hell, reliving them with perfect clarity. He would sit up in bed and breathe deeply, in and out.

He was jumpy and irritable almost all the time. He freely admitted that he liked her now, to himself, and hated being away from her. He would sit quietly in the afternoons and pretend he could hear her singing in the shower. He would pretend that the wings around his neck were still around hers, and that they only touched his skin because she was pressed so tightly against him.

Around the time he thought he was going crazy, Sam told him they should go back to Bobby's. He drove through the night to get there, only stopping to refill once and to let Sam take a leak. It was early when he pulled into the Lot, but he went inside anyway. He descended the steps to the panic room, ignoring Sam's warnings to stay away. He unlocked the door and stepped inside, taking her in. She was laying flat against the cot, her eyes closed lightly. It looked like she was sleeping. Not in a magically induced coma. If this was what meditation did to you, Dean was not going to try it anytime soon.

Before he was sure what he was doing, he had kneeled beside her. Her body had not changed. Even though she had not eaten in weeks and definitely hadn't showered. She still smelled of midnight and wind. He looked around hesitantly, noticing the absence of the fallen angel. Castiel was somewhere else. Before he could change his mind, Dean slipped his calloused hand into hers. He threaded the fingers together, holding on as if for dear life. He stared down at their joined hands in contemplation before beginning to speak.

If he was looking at her face, he would have noticed how her eyes had shot open at the contact. He would have seen the silver shooting outwards. He would have seen the light.

"Hey, I know you've been asleep for a long time…but you gotta wake up, Kat. You gotta wake up," he said in a hoarse whisper. And then it happened.


	85. Chapter 85

**This one is longer than most of mine, so love me. Review! -Han**

Somewhere from inside the light, she felt someone take her hand. The calluses were rough and tauntingly gentle at the same time. She knew them. She felt herself pulling upwards, fighting to regain control. She knew her eyes had opened and the silver had expanded. Her grace was winning.

And the rough timbre of his voice broke through. She heard him ask her to wake up. She heard the desperation in his voice. She felt the hand tighten around hers. And then she pushed against the wall in her mind. She pushed until pain bloomed behind her eyes and her body shook. She pushed until the blackness of her own mind cascaded down onto the light, swirling together and mixing. She could feel the power flood her body, and the sanity. She could feel the want to break to the surface and knew she could still _feel_.

Her back arched off the cot, her hand still clasped firmly in Dean's. She could see the expanse of perfectly mixing colors. Black and Silver. In delicious patterns and swirls. And then the pain started. At some point she had sat up, on her knees her back still arching backwards. She felt the pain grow, ripping its way through her back, stemming from her spine. Dean was watching with panicked eyes. He was vaguely aware that Castiel had reappeared. His blue eyes wide and frantic. This was the most important part. Either she would die, or she wouldn't.

A raw scream tore its way through her throat and it filled the silent house. Bobby and Sam were there moments later, Bobby being set by the latter back into his wheelchair. They watched in awe and fear as Kat gripped Dean's hand and struggled. Flashes of shadow appeared, like bad TV reception. Then her scream was cut off abruptly and she slumped forward. Her grip went slightly slack in Dean's hand and her back was bowed. Her other hand was clenched in the sheets and her black hair fell around her face. From what he could see of it, her teeth were bared and her eyes were dripping water.

The lights in the room flickered, and then brightened. In the improved light, they saw them. Large, shadowed, black wings stemmed from her. They were folded downward, the ends tapered elegantly on the floor past the cot. Dean reached out with his free hand as if to touch them, and the shifted. He marveled how they looked almost corporeal as they moved, stretching outward with impossible grace as Kat lifted her head. She was facing the doorway, Dean kneeling next to her, his hand still in hers. Her body shook as she climbed off the cot to stand. Dean stood with her, before stepping back. He joined Castiel who stood near the door and they waited.

Her eyes opened and he exhaled when he saw they were the same icy blue. The only difference was the slightly more noticeable ring of silver. Her chin lifted upwards and she looked up the pentacle sky-light, the sun playing across her pale skin. Her wings extended, taking up the full width of the room and she rolled her shoulders experimentally. The wings flickered and twitched and a shudder escaped her. She looked at Dean and tilted her head.

The four men were close to terrified. So many things could go wrong. They tensed, preparing for anything. But she just let a warm smile bloom across her face. "Did you guys forget something?" she asked, curiosity in her voice.

"W-We've been gone for two months," Sam said softly. She shook her head in denial, the feathers fluttering.

"I just said goodbye-sorry, see you later," she corrected herself, glancing at Dean. He was staring at something past her. She turned her head to see what he was looking at and gaped. "W-What?" she stuttered out. The black feathers ruffled and winked out of existence as she collapsed. Dean rushed forward to catch her before her head hit the metal side of the cot.

"What happened?" he demanded.

"The shock was too great for her to sustain consciousness," Castiel replied calmly.

"I got that part!" he shouted. "Why didn't she remember?"

"Her mind blocked the pain," Castiel answered. "It is likely that she will remember everything she went through when she awakes again."

"Cas?" Dean asked quietly. Castiel leaned forward expectantly. "Did it hurt her?" There was a desperation in the man's voice that made Castiel wish he cold give a different answer.

"Most likely," he whispered. "Her consciousness was extremely unwilling to accept the Grace, it felt unworthy. Over the past two months she relived every reason why she thinks she is not worthy." The angel was hushed and sad. "I could do nothing."

Dean only nodded numbly and scooped her up into his arms. Her hand hung limply in the air and for a moment he looked at it, before reaching over and snagging the fingers up in his own. He carried her away from the three men and into what he now considered their room. He laid her down on the bed and felt a smile come to his face.

The last five weeks had been hard on him. If it wasn't enough that she wasn't with him, he had to face his parents again. He had to look at his beautiful mother and know she was destined to die. It felt like dying all over again. And on top of all of that, his nights were spent writhing with nightmares. Ones where he begged to die at the hands of his fears. Ones where he prayed and pleaded and cried. Ones where he couldn't save Sam and ones where he couldn't save Kat.

Dean kicked off his shoes and collapsed next to her, pulling the blankets over him. Even unconscious, she molded to him. It made a grin light up his face and he played with her hair idly and whispered gently.

"I miss you, we had a lot going on. I got to see my parents again. You would have liked my Mom. She was always so awesome. She used to be all smiles…all the time. She could find God in anything and forgave every mistake Dad made. I remember she smelled like strawberries and she used to look at Sammy like he was the sun. Dad used to tell me to watch out for Sam, but the reason I listened was because Mom loved him so much," he said softly, he was rambling now. Her face was on his chest, turned away from him. Her breathing was deep and easy. "I bet she would have loved you."

"Good reason too, you're…you're something else. If it wasn't for the necklace, I might have lost it a few times. I'm sorry you had to go through all that. I wish I could have kept you safe from it. You don't deserve what happened to you, and I'm so proud that you accepted it enough to accept that other part of yourself. I don't know how I helped, if I did at all, but I'm glad it happened when I was with you," he said softly. He remembered the death grip she held on his hand and didn't regret it.

When Castiel walked by he was surprised to see Dean sitting against the headboard, with Kat tucked into his chest, whispering softly. Was he supposed to be doing that? Were you really supposed to talk to those that could not hear you?

"She cannot hear you," he pointed out helpfully. He thought Dean ought to know that his kind words were not reaching her.

"I know, Cas," Dean responded patiently.

"Then why do you talk to her?" he asked, his head tilting.

There was a heavy sigh from the wary hunter and he motioned for the angel to walk further into the room. "Because it's just what you do," he tried to explain. "You say all…you say all the things you wouldn't say if they were awake."

"Oh."

"I'll give you a minute," Den said sighing, he disentangled himself from her and dropped to kiss her cheek. "I'll be in the kitchen."

When Castiel was left alone he simply continued to stand awkwardly. His hands hung limply at his sides and his eyes never left her. He did not know what to do, but he trusted Dean. Making up his mind he moved gracefully to sit on the edge of the bed. He raised his hand and let slim fingers brush across her forehead.

"Child…I do not know how to do this," he said softly, "And I do not understand this concept. Why am I talking to you if you cannot hear me?" He began, finding it easier to continue. "I am not sure what I am meant to say, but I will start by apologizing. I should have told you who I was, but I did not want to see you further broken. It is my fault in the first place. I have been feeling much more than usual, since I have fallen, but strangely, one of those things is not regret. I do not regret saving you, or making you what you are. I do not regret falling for Dean. I trust Dean. He will do my Father proud."

Castiel looked up at the ceiling and sighed deeply. "I hope you can save him. I sent him to the Roadhouse to make you happy, but it had been better for Dean than I thought. I want Dean to be happy. He is…he is my best friend."

Kat's eyes fluttered open and she launched her small body at the angel. "That was the most amazingly sweet thing I have ever heard any living person say," she exclaimed, her face pressed against his trench-coat.

"I do not think you were supposed to hear that," Castiel mumbled, hiding his blush.

"I was only awake for the last two sentences and I'm glad I heard it," she stated, shaking her head. "You're something else, you know that?" she asked.

"I believe Dean recently said the same about you," he stated, trying to direct the attention off of himself.

"Dean was here?" there was hope in her voice.

"He is downstairs," he said nodding. The small woman jumped up and raced down the creaky stairs, throwing herself onto the startled hunter.

"You're back!" she exclaimed. He caught her, holding onto her tightly. "It seemed like _years _where I was. It wasn't years was it?" she asked fearfully.

"No it wasn't," he chuckled softly.

"What day is it?" she asked suddenly.

"Friday," Sam supplied, leaning against the counter, waiting paitently for his hug.

"No, What _day_?" She asked again.

"The Fifteenth," Bobby grunted from his spot.

"Of?" Kat asked, her patience dwindling.

"April," Dean said finally. She looked at him with wide eyes.

"What?"

"It's April, Kat," he said again. He was worried she would faint, but his tone was that firm kind of don't-you-dare-freak-out that kept her grounded.

"I was out for two months?" she clarified.

"Yes," they all answered. She looked at Dean as if she was about to say something devastatingly important, before shrugging and turning to them all.

"Well I am just famished. Anybody want something?" she asked, heading for the stove. As it turned out, all of them did. She seated herself and dug into the food in front of her. She would say that nothing had ever looked so beautiful to her, but Dean _was _sitting across from her. She was only being realistic, she told herself. Admitting that Dean is attractive doesn't mean that she liked him. Like…like liked him. That was just ridiculous. And it wasn't like he could like her back. Not back, though. Just like her. Because she didn't like him in the first place.

Not at all.

It wasn't until their plates were empty did the brothers broach the topic.

"So, do you know how to use it now?" Sam asked, looking her over curiously.

"Nope," she said delightfully.

"Then what the hell was the point of all of that?" Dean demanded. If putting her through all that pain had been for naught he would be killing him some angel.

"I can access it now, I just don't know what it does yet," she tried to explain. "It's like saving a bunch of money for Call of Duty and having to read the manual."

"How the hell do you know what Call of Duty is?" Sam asked.

"Ash."

"Oh."

"What's Call of Duty?" Dean asked, completely confused.

"War game," Sam explained.

"I do not understand that reference," Castiel put in, his head tilted to the side.

"Better analogy," Kat waved him off, "It's like going through a bunch of trouble to steal a weapon and having to learn to use it. Just because you have it doesn't mean you suddenly realize how to use it or even what it does."

"Why didn't you just say that?" Dean asked, leaning back in his chair. She smiled and shook her head, a small laugh escaping. It was good to be back. Her mind was not nearly as fun as the Winchesters.

She remembered fighting, clawing and tearing and attempting to find some form of purchase. And she remembered the vile feeling she felt when the Grace enveloped her. She felt so disgustingly unworthy. She had gone over every reason why the power should deem her so and simply smite her. But it wouldn't. She had begged, pleaded and writhed inside the cage of her mind to be put down before it. But it would not budge.

In the end she had felt warm skin and it told her to trust. So she did.

And she was no worse for the wear. On the outside, anyway. That was where it counted.


	86. Chapter 86

**I honestly feel like a bad person for not giving you this earlier but I was without internet. I know, I know, sad. It was. And boring. So boring. Any who, enough about me and my lack of a life, please enjoy this chapter and please review! –Han**

That night she was back with Dean. Herr fingers found his warm skin and her exhale was relieved. He was her guilty pleasure. She knew being so close to him would not help her confusing feelings. She knew depending on him wasn't smart. But damn it all to hell if she didn't enjoy every minute of it.

His smile made her heart race and his eyes made her lost. She could spend days just looking at him, and never grow tired. She wondered if he knew how addictive he was.

Her arms wrapped around his waist, the sharp hipbones digging delightfully into her skin. His arms caged her, pulling her body to his with demand. She found it difficult to move, but she didn't want to anyway. Her small nose was almost touching his chest, her forehead resting just below the collar bone. Perfect. Bliss.

The pair of them couldn't name many things they truly enjoyed in their lives. Things that made them honest-to-God happy. But this was one of them.

The next morning Kat spent her time assuring Bobby that she was just fine enough to try and train her power. The man was stubborn and adamant that she take a day to relax, but finally caved when she pulled out a pout. She was listening to Sam and Dean give a short recount of what they had been doing, when Sam stopped suddenly.

"What?" she asked curiously as he looked intently at his laptop screen.

"Probably nothing…it's just the whole Swine Flu outbreak," Sam said slowly.

"What about it?" she asked, leaning forward.

"What if it's Pestilence?" he asked.

"Don't you think that's a little…weak?" Dean put it. "I mean, dude, you remember the Croatoan virus? He could do way worse than pig flu."

"I think it's worth looking into," Sam said anyway. Kat nodded her confirmation and grabbed her own laptop.

"You take the spread and effects, I'll take vaccines and safety," Kat instructed. Sam nodded and they began their work. Dean, feeling utterly useful glanced at Bobby.

"Don't look at me, boy. She get's like this a lot."

"Like what?" Kat voiced, a challenge in her voice.

"Like a bull-headed hunter," Bobby replied easily. She smirked and shrugged.

"Takes one to know one."

"Just do your research," Bobby huffed.

Kat giggled to herself and went back to looking it up. She saw Dean walk outside and guessed he was going to service the Impala again. She knew he hated feeling useless, but she didn't know what to have him do. Three hours and zero progress later, Castiel appeared.

"Are you ready to begin?" he asked in his gruff voice. She nodded and let him lead her outside. She took a moment to admire Dean. He was leaned over the engine, a light sheen of sweat on his face and grease smears on his skin. She watched the muscles in his back shift and contract as he worked and she fought the urge to walk over and take the shirt off herself. She was not one to think like that. Never had, in fact. Ever.

Perfect. Now he was making her feel _that _way. She'd never felt that way. She was practically a virgin. She wished she was a virgin. She'd never wished otherwise…but now she was thinking some very non-virginal thoughts.

"Like what 'ya see?" Dean asked without turning around.

"Maybe," she answered, smirking. "Move so I can see the car."

"Now that's cold."

"I think it is quite warm," Castiel added from beside her. She laughed and patted his cheek affectionately.

"He means emotionally distant or cruel, in a joking way of course," she explained. He looked to be filing away that piece of information for later and then nodded sharply.

"I believe you will need Dean's help to first learn to use your Grace," he said calmly.

"What can I do?" Dean asked incredulously.

Castiel looked at him carefully. "She was gone two months, and one touch from you and she is awake," he explained. Dean shook his head.

"Just luck."

"Just try it, Dean," Kat pleaded quietly.

He only shrugged and nodded, his face drawn. He didn't like any of that mystic-Houdini-crap. It made his skin crawl just to think of all the things Sam had been capable of. Why couldn't they just be human? Was that too much?

But because it was her asking, he wiped his hands and walked towards her. Because at the end of the day, he had done the same for his brother. And his brother had been sporting demonic blood instead of angelic. When he was in front of her, he let himself look her over. She was in a black wife-beater, her scars seen easily running over her arms and collar bone, and a pair of jeans that Dean swore were men's and he'd be dammed if that didn't make it hotter. Her hair was in that messy sort of artist-bun that he most certainly did not know the name of, and her eyes were (for once) free of liner.

Castiel led them further into the salvage yard where they would not hurt anyone, should things go wrong. This did not encourage Dean.

But Kat just looked at Castiel for instruction. The raw trust in her eyes warmed Dean's heart. He had the same blind faith in the angel. And he was sure that Castiel wouldn't let them down.

The angel in question gave her a look that had Kat sighing. "More meditating?" she asked desperately. He nodded stiffly and she moved. She grabbed Dean's hand and sat in one fluid motion, dragging him to the ground with her. He huffed and muttered something about fair warning next time and settled himself on the ground. Her grip is firm and so is his. Even as her body relaxes, muscle by muscle, her hand doesn't. He thinks it's her telling him she's afraid.

How could she not be? He certainly was.

He didn't have much more time to think about it because her breaths had slowed and her eyes had fluttered closed. He was vaguely aware of Castiel giving her soft commands. There was a noise, and he thought it was humming, but it might've been her Grace. It was soft and warmer than any other angels, but it must've been muted, since she was only half angel. That made sense, right?

Around the time he started to wonder what _exactly _she was trying to do, he felt an insistent tugging around his navel. He allowed himself a grumble, he hated any kind of air travel. He was sure he'd made that clear. And last time Cas did that…well…you know what happened and he didn't like to repeat himself.

He didn't have time to argue as he actually saw the flutter of wings…and then. Were those the Appalachian Mountains?

He was sure they were. He'd driven through them enough times. And God had he hated those twisty roads that were too thin and too close to the edge. The mountains were that blue color in the distance and he thought Carolinas. There were rock faces to the sides where you could pretend you were somewhere more exotic. He would be lying if he said it wasn't breath taking. But nothing stole Dean Winchesters breath and didn't get killed later, so he would lie.

And Kat was still gripping his hand and her eyes were wide now. The icy blue taking in her surroundings. And then she launched herself at Dean, a breathy laugh escaping her lips. He released her hand to grab her waist, her feet no longer on the ground.

"I did it!" she was shouting over and over again and he let himself chuckle. She had done it. Faster than he thought she would. Her body was flush against his and he thanked God for small favors.

"Yea…you did," even he could hear the pride in his voice. The happiness. She pulled back to grin at him and he found himself wanting, needing, to lean in. But he stopped himself. She was too good, too pure, too happy, for him to snatch it away. What they had was good and manageable. So instead he set her down and pressed his lips against her forehead.

She felt a blush work its way across her face and ducked her head. Not. Good. She wasn't supposed to like him like that. She had just spent the majority of the morning telling herself she didn't feel anything. Great. Fucking great.

It was quiet for a moment and they just looked out over their spot on the ledge. He noticed they were on the rare (incredibly rare) shoulders of the road to let people get out and take in the scenery. The road itself was empty and the forest was pressing in on it and he knew if he was driving, he would feel claustrophobic. She let out an easy sigh and he had the feeling that everything here was familiar, even the crushing humidity. The air itself was wet and there weren't even any clouds. The sky was open and blue and perfect.

"Why here?" he asked eventually. She let her eyes slid to his and a wan smile graced her mouth.

"Because it's one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen," she answered softly. And he couldn't help himself.

"What's the most beautiful?"

"Your eyes," the answer was immediate and honest. He was taken aback and so was she. She hadn't meant to say that. She blushed again and turned away, letting a breeze blow her hair back.

"They're just green," Dean mumbled. How was that the most beautiful thing? Had she not looked in the mirror?

"No," she answered. "They're this clear jade with shots of gold," she said as though she had known this about him his entire life and he was an idiot for _not _knowing it. He scoffed and pouted.

"Pick something else."

"Sunlight." That answer was also immediate and just as honest. This one he could understand and he didn't ask questions. After being locked in the dark for eleven years, he figured the sun could be a big deal. "You?" she asked.

Dean thought for a long time. So long that Kat thought he was ignoring her. But then he smiled just a bit. "Seeing Sammy alive," he whispered. He was referring to the night Jake stabbed him. And the pure joy and absolute relief he felt when he walked back in the door and seen that his deal had gone through. "I'd make the same choice in a heartbeat."

"Your deal, you mean?" her voice was soft.

"Yea."

"I understand," she said nodding. Normally Dean would've said that no, they most certainly did not understand. But her siblings had died too. "The only reason I didn't was because I had come to terms with it," she said. "Four years will do that to you." Her smile was grim and sad. She shifted suddenly and pulled up a pant leg. There was a tattoo on her ankle that Dean had never bothered to look at before. But he remembered her mentioning it. That was back when the wings had been ink to him, not skin.

The script was elegant and fluid but he could clearly read the names, separated by a stitched heart: 'Susie, Andrea'.

He shuddered. he thought of loosing _two _Sam's. He couldn't begin to think of the pain. The loss. The agony. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder and spoke his mind. "They would be proud of you."

Kat sniffed and shook her head slowly. "Why would they?" she asked it mockingly, and clearly didn't want an answer.

"Because you're a hero," he said simply.

"So are you."

"No I'm not."

"I'll believe you if you believe me," she said finally. Dean smiled and nodded his agreement and she took his hand. His grip tightened as he felt more than saw her wings spread. And then they were back in the salvage yard in South Dakota. Like nothing had ever happened.


	87. Chapter 87

Cas did not ask them where they went, only made his lips into something resembling a smile and told her that was enough for one day. She agreed. She let Dean lead her to their room where she sighed in exhaustion. It took a lot more out of her than she thought it would. How did Cas manage it? And why were his lips so chapped? Was it the wind he constantly created as he flew?

Why was she thinking about that? That was a weird thing to think about. Oh yeah. She was tired. That always explained. She shooed Dean back out to his car where he could finish servicing it and let herself gather her clothes. She felt windblown (wonder why?) and sticky from the humidity of Highlands South Carolina, which is where she had taken Dean.

When the water hit her skin she smiled and tipped her head back, thinking of nothing and everything. And when she decided to sing, she did. And she really didn't care who heard her.

_"__Well I heard there was a secret chord  
>that David played and it pleased the Lord<br>But you don't really care for music, do you?"_

Sam heard the singing on the way to grab something from Dean's duffel. And for the life of him he couldn't remember what it was. He stopped and pressed his back against the wall. His eyes closed and he listened and he wasn't ashamed. If Dean could do it, so could he. He was sure if he said that out loud, a dammit would be added to it.

_"And I've seen your flag on the marble arch  
>and love is not a victory march<br>It's a cold and it's a broken Hallelujah  
>Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah..."<em>

He hadn't heard that song in a long time and if Dean had heard it this way, maybe he would be allowed to listen to it more often. He wondered if he could get him to sing 'Tears in Heaven'. He liked that song. He scrubbed at his eyes and walked away from the door, his heart heavy. He was used to being emotional, but this was something else. He wished he could protect her from all the bad feelings in the world. He knew she could handle the bad _things_, but he wanted to help with the feelings. She had, after all, deemed him the older brother she never had. Jaime had been born later and he was a tool. And yes, Sam did just think that. God, he was sounding more like Dean every day.

He needed some time off.

He shook his head, remembering why he was up here in the first place. Apocalypse first, vacation second. Fiji. He liked Fiji.

Focus.

Right. Apocalypse.

Fun.

***scene***

Dean found Sam inside, hunched over his laptop with a small smile on his face. Dean threw him a questioning look and was about to make a comment about not watching porn in public places when Sam looked up.

"She's singing again," he said by way of explanation. It had been months since either of them had heard it, and it meant lots of things. Like that she was back to normal. Or rather, as normal as any of them could get.

"Happy or sad?" Dean paused. "Or Disney?"

"Sad. Hallelujah…I think it was the Jeff Buckley version."

"Dude, how do you even know this stuff?" he asked almost rhetorically.

"You know James Hetfield's birthday, you can't talk," Sam responded.

"August Third," Dean said automatically.

"And you _celebrate _it."

"At least I don't listen to creepy emo music for hours just so I can 'get in a cry'," Dean teased.

"You really should try to listen to that kind, it's better than your mullet-rock," Sam said seriously.

"Dude. Lay off my music."

"Lay off mine."

"I'm the older brother, I don't have to."

"Jerk"

"Bitch"

The both turned at the giggle from the doorway. She smiled brightly at them and walked into the kitchen. "Food?" Both men nodded and she started cooking. "You guys are hilarious, you know that?" she asked.

"We're awesome," Dean said as if that explained everything. Kat smothered her laugh and nodded as seriously as she could.

"We have to amuse ourselves somehow," Sam answered. She nodded and sighed in content.

"We have to leave soon, don't we?" she asked, sounding sad. She had just woken up and it was so peaceful and nice and fun here.

"Yea, I found a few hunts for us to work on while we keep researching the Swine Flu thing," Sam responded.

"Dork," Dean coughed out, smirking. Sam stuck out his tongue and shoved him. Dean wobbled precariously on his chair but managed to save himself. Dean recuperated with his own push that sent Sam to the floor. He glared at Dean and stood up as dignified as he possibly could. "Don't start something you can't finish, Samantha."

"No fighting," Kat said with out turning from the stove. Both men flipped her off. "Put your fingers down or no pie," she warned.

"She's worse than Missouri," Dean muttered. "Wait. There's pie?"

"Yea, Bobby went to the store or something when he heard you guys were coming back. Speaking of which, where is Bobby?"

"Study," Sam answered.

"Man lives in there," she muttered. "_Bobby!_" she shouted suddenly. She was met with a grunt audible through the walls. "Food!"

Bobby wheeled himself into the kitchen a minute later.


	88. Chapter 88

**This is really a filler chapter and I'm sorry if it's dull. But trust me, I can fix that with the next few I have planned. Enjoy! Review! All my love –Han**

Two weeks later and three hunts later, they rolled back into South Dakota. The three were confused and very upset, to say the least. Electrical storms, fine. Could have been a fluke. Creepy circling cloud formation, fine. Sometimes weather is just weather. Some guy getting killed in his trailer, fine. Murder happens.

But the murderer being someone who died over five years ago? Not. Fine.

Kat had spent the better part of the sixteen hour car ride trying to convince herself that Bobby had already looked into it. The town was five miles from the Salvage Yard, it wouldn't be like he wouldn't hear about it. He would know. And he would do something. But none of them had called him and he hadn't called them. And she couldn't tell you why.

Maybe he was busy with the case.

But when they arrived in Sioux Falls, nothing had changed. She was to stay in the motel. More than two FBI agents wouldn't go over as smoothly as any of them would hope and she couldn't do anything else. Not without a car anyway. So she sat cross-legged on her and Dean's bed and flipped through her journal. She hadn't written in it in months, and even she was shocked by the bleakness of the words she had written years ago. But she didn't feel that way now. She pulled out a pen and started writing.

When the boys reentered the motel room, their faces were drawn and stoic. She snapped the journal shut and clutched it to her chest. One look from her was the only thing they needed to proceed.

"We got kicked out of town by the local LEO's," Sam said.

"Asked for our 'superior'," Dean quoted in a high pitched voice. "Recognized Bobby's voice."

" Is it our case?" she asked.

"Looks like, but we need to talk to Bobby," Sam said. Dean only grunted. She squirmed off the bed and picked up her duffel, slipping the journal into it. Dean looked at her funny, but didn't mention it. Really, he had forgotten about the leather bound book. She had only brought it up once, Sam had wanted to read it, but they hadn't. And then he forgot about it. But there it was. And he wanted to read it.

One problem at a time.

By the time the arrived at Bobby's Kat was ready to jump in Dean's lap and make him turn around. She honestly didn't _want _to know what was happening. Because it couldn't be good. But they knocked on the door anyway and he answered. And his house was clean. It put Kat's former attempts to shame and she couldn't stop staring.

"Did-did you comb your hair?" Dean asked.

"What? I'm not allowed to look nice?" Bobby bit back, clearly uncomfortable. Kat was still marveling on the cleanliness, the thick layer of dust had been removed and books looked to be in a semblance of order.

And Kat thought his hair was thinning a bit more than usual. He looked older. But happy. That happened so rarely that she almost dragged the boys back outside. And then he looked at the three of them and said exactly what she wanted to hear.

"Look, kids, I've already looked into this and there ain't nothin' to see. Sometimes weather's just weather."

"And the dead murderer?" Dean asked.

"The only witness is the town drunk," Bobby said sighing. "You guys probably just wanna head on out and find a new job," the old man said. He left no room for suggestion.

They said their goodbyes and they were back in the car and Kat finally exhaled. Relief was almost floating in the air and she wondered if she could touch it. Sam mirrored her, glad that they could trust the man he thought of as his surrogate father. Dean was being Dean.

He wanted to trust the man, he really did. But the tells were obvious. The imploring way he looked at them, like it was life or death, rarely happened even if it was life or death. It was overkill. Subtle, but there. His eyes had flickered left too often and he couldn't even look at Kat. Then there was the iron grip he held on the arms of his wheelchair.

Kat was beginning to nod off in the back of the car when Dean pulled over. She startled awake with something between a hum and a moan, and looked at him accusingly. He simply gazed at Sam and asked the question.

"Wasn't the guy buried here?" he asked, pointing to the cemetery gates. Sam nodded hesitantly and Dean jumped out of the car. He grabbed the shovels from the trunk and began walking towards the graves.

"Dude, don't you think we should just…trust Bobby?" Sam asked, getting out as well. Kat shimmied out of the back, her eyes roaming the headstones. She walked through the gates and past Dean, feeling as though she should pay her respects.

"I do trust him. I'm just making sure," Dean responded, slamming his shovel into the dirt. It was looser than he expected, but he tried not to think too much of it. Sam sighed loudly and began helping him. Dean looked around for Kat and saw her standing rather awkwardly in front of a headstone.

He shrugged, resigning himself to asking her about it later, and kept digging. He ignored the ache in his back and tried not to send her fleeting looks. It was hard not to. She was wearing her usual attire of low-slung jeans and a go-army shirt. Her long black hair flowing wildly around her. He thought it would be easy to imagine her in a modest black dress, one that clung to her stomach and floated from her waist. He could see her lips parting, moving. She was talking to whoever lay beneath the soil and he wondered who it was.

When he and Sam finally hit the casket he sighed in relief. He called Kat over for the unveiling. The air was now crushingly silent and both men could hear her resigned retreat. "Goodbye Blake."

Dean let out a breath. Oh. Talking to the dead 'boyfriend.' Even he couldn't understand her being with someone. Well, someone that wasn't him anyway. He wasn't naïve enough to think that she allowed other people to touch her the way he could. He knew everyone else had to ask permission, be it silent or not. He knew he wasn't the only one to look at her like she was special, but he was sure he was the only one who thought of her like the world. He was sure he was the only one who could see the freedom in her eyes and the fire in her veins.

She approached them slowly and he was relatively surprised to see no grief in her eyes. Just a resignation and something close to guilt. He motioned for her to come closer and she leaned over the edge of the grave to watch. He turned his attention back to the relatively cheap wood casket and pried it open. Wood splintered and cracked and Sam held his breath. Kat cringed into Sam, not wanting to look. She didn't have to. She knew the answer when Dean swore.

"Sonofa_bitch._"

The casket was empty.

Back in the car it was clear that Kat wanted none of this. When the boys went inside to drag out the zombie, she stayed in the car. Sam didn't question her, he wanted out too. But Dean fixed her with a hard look and sighed.

"Nothing I say will get you in there, will it?" he asked.

"I just can't, not on this one," she practically begged. He nodded stiffly and went with Sam to the door. A minute later they walked back out with a middle aged man who was a little too pale and had circles under his eyes that were a little too dark. He seemed willing to go to 'jail' for killing the man that killed him and Kat found herself wishing he could turn into a flesh eating monster. It was easier when they didn't seem so good. She still waited in the car. She saw Dean pull out his gun and jumped as she heard the officer approach.

"I can't believe you were going to kill me!" the man shouted, absolutely appalled.

"You're a zombie!" Dean shouted back.

"I'm a tax payer!"

Kat crouched low in back seat as the sheriff showed her colors as pro zombie and clapped the boys in cuffs. Her breathing was shallow as they were led to the patrol car and she ducked sharply as the woman passed the Impala. She was left alone as the boys were taken away, and she could've sworn she heard Dean mumbling about her staying in the car.

Almost as soon as they turned the corner, her phone rang. She answered it hesitantly. "Yea?"

"Kat." Ash's voice was tight and constricted. She held her breath, afraid for what he would say. She could practically hear the mental calculations running through his head. "I'm headed towards Bobby's, I should be there in two hours. Don't talk to anyone by Sam or Dean 'till I get there." he instructed.

"Ash, what's going on?" she asked with worry evident in her voice. Ash never came personally to help unless it was end-of-the-world big. This day officially sucked.

"I got a call for you at the Roadhouse," he responded cryptically.

"From?" she asked hesitantly as she crawled from the backseat to sit in the drivers.

"Blake."


	89. Chapter 89

Kat was driving, racing, speeding, and any other word you could possibly think of to express the mindset 'get the hell outta dodge'. Somehow she knew that Bobby had gotten the boys out of the holding cell they were no doubt in, so she drove directly to his house. She passed the cemetery again and thought how silly it was that she had just addressed the grave.

_"It's been awhile, huh? I would ask how you're doing but…you're dead. So there doesn't seem to be much of a point. I, uh, I found some guys to hunt with and they're really great. Good family boys. Sam is like the big brother I never had and Dean is Dean. I don't know how to describe him, but we're closer than me and you ever were. I know that sounds mean, but you should know I didn't love you. I couldn't. You weren't what I needed and I didn't feel safe. I'm sorry I led you on, but I'm not sorry I didn't return your feelings. I just couldn't force it. I think I like Dean, and I don't know how to feel about it. I'm kinda scared, but I know if anyone will take care of me, it's him. I have to go now, Goodbye, Blake."_

It was almost comical. In a sick kind of way. When she finally pulled into the place she called home, Dean and Sam were walking sullenly out of the house. The almost accepting tilt of Sam's head and the tense dangerously hard look in Dean's eyes was enough to tell her it had to do with morality. What ever it was. She knew because it was one of the few things they could never understand about the other. Sam being more accepting and willing to see the good and Dean's training as a warrior preventing him from seeing any other side. If it was evil he killed it. He was still dealing with the semi-decent vampires.

She exited the car and opened her mouth to tell them the news. Dean cut her off.

"Bobby's wife is alive."

"-The hell?" Kat stuttered out.

"Everyone in the graveyard," Sam added.

"Shit."

"True," Dean commented.

"They're not evil," Sam said carefully. "At least, not that we can see. Bobby's put her through every test he can think of and she came out clean. Real homemaker."

"Oh god," she whispered. She scrubbed at her eyes and exhaled loudly. The infamous Karen. "She was cremated…what did this?"

"We're thinking Death," Sam said.

"Another Horseman? Is it Thursday?" she asked sarcastically.

"Dean said that," Sam pointed out, surprised.

"Dean says a lot of things, some of them are even witty," Kat retorted. She sighed and dropped her head in her hands. "How sure are we?"

"About what?"

"That they won't hurt anyone?" Kat asked.

"Not sure at all," Dean stated, his gaze on the house hard. She shivered and hugged herself, her eyes flitting nervously around her. Ash had failed to mention where Blake had called from.

"What's wrong?" Sam asked. Kat looked at him like he'd lost his mind. "Besides the obvious."

"B-uhm-Blake was buried there. Or rather, his ashes and a marker," she amended, looking away from them.

"_Shit_." Dean hissed, also looking wildly around himself. "Okay, okay, plan. Sam you take the car and try and track down the other people who've risen. I'm staying here and keeping an eye on the place."

"I have to go to the motel," Kat put in.

"Why?"

"Ash said he was on his way," she murmured, looking down.

"Why?" This time Dean asked it harshly.

"He was worried."

"So?"

"So he knows how Blake can get sometimes and he wanted to be sure I was okay."

"What do you mean how he can get?"

"When he drank he wasn't the nicest. I was never unfortunate enough to be on the receiving end, but Ash has been enough times. I suppose he decided that being dead would be the ultimate hangover," she said shrugging. Dean sighed and nodded. She slipped into the drivers side and pretended not to notice the offended look Dean gave when she didn't ask first. She drove carefully to the motel and climbed out, letting Sam get in her seat.

"Kat?" he called. "Be careful."

She smiled and leaned up to kiss his cheek. "You too."

She walked inside and lowered herself onto a bed. It was strange to think that this morning, this was just another hunt. She wasn't sure how long she sat there before there was a knock. She opened it slowly, anxious to see the familiar mullet behind the door. She started and stepped back quickly, the name drawn from her lips was a whisper and a fear.

"Blake."

He was tall, only an inch shorter than Dean's six-foot one. The body was of a hunter, only lankier and thinner. The muscle was there, but he was so slim it could be swallowed by larger shirts. Bleached-blonde hair curled and floated from his face like a models, ending just at his jaw. The brown eyes were almost black in their depth and one could mistake the light for warmth. His features looked to be carefully carved and then drunkenly placed. His jaw was slightly too chiseled for the elegant curve of his nose and his eyes were too angular for the high cheekbones. But still attractive. Put together he was that sort of attainable beauty that made him an easy enough target. Not drop-dead like Dean, though not mediocre by any means.

"Kitty," he addressed her in that soft kind of voice. When you looked at him, you could imagine a deep, rough, tumbled voice. But really it was soft the point of almost musicality. Lyrical.

Her head was shaking back and forth and she was backing up as he approached. He crossed the salt line with ease, stepping further into the room. She noticed he was in new clothes and wondered randomly if he had stolen them. That wasn't very nice.

"Kitty I'm alive," he said, his voice musing and thoughtful. "I've been looking for you for four days. And then pop! You're here!" Sometimes she thought she detected an errant British accent, but he said he had been from New Hampshire. Were there many British people there? Not now. Focus.

"I beg to differ," she said casually.

"Why's that?" Honest curiosity evident in his voice.

"Because I held you while you died and I burned you in the woods. You've been gone for months. You're not alive," she hissed. In the back of her mind, a voice told her that Dean came back. Dean was dead for four months and came back. But he came back whole. The Blake before her had lost his sun-kissed tan and had dark circles under his eyes. The eyes themselves looked a bit sunken, but not enough for her to reach for a weapon. Just enough to make her afraid.

"But I am. I'm breathing and walking and talking and I'm standing right in front of you."

"And that doesn't mean you're not evil," she hissed.

"I'm not," he said solemnly. "I would have tried to kill you by now if I was."

"I don't trust you."

"Would you be a hunter if you did?" he asked bitterly. He moved and sat heavily on the edge of her bed. Her and Dean's bed. She shivered and thought it as defiled. She would make them go somewhere else tonight.

"What do you want?" Rule one- get them talking. They rarely are smart enough to keep the plan to themselves when they start going.

"You."

"Me?"

"You." Blake looked at her, almost cowering against the wall. "I missed you. And I want to have what we had."

"No."

"Why the hell not?" There was the anger, borderline rage. That was how he was. Boiling beneath the surface, ready to erupt if he didn't get his way.

"Because I don't want to?" she made it sound like a question. And then he was there, pinning her to the wall, his hands gripping her arms.

"But I love you." The words were callused and bitter and she realized it had been an offer for redemption. "I was at the cemetery," he hissed.

This had been a ploy. A small chance to allow her to fix her tragic mistake. But she hadn't taken it and the fury was evident in his voice. She cursed her stupidity and glared at the man before her. Her right hand twisted by her jeans, trying to reach the knife she kept hidden in the waistband.

"I love you," he repeated, in a mocking, taunting voice. "I put up with you and your mood swings. I pretended it was okay when you wouldn't touch me. I pretended it was okay when you wouldn't sleep with me. But to have you turn around and do it with someone else?" he screamed in her face.

"W-What? I'm not!" she shouted, disgusted by the insinuation.

"Oh, shut up you lying slut!" He backhanded her and her concentration broke. She bit back a cry of pain and looked at him, shocked. She grimaced as she felt blood begin to pool into a drop on her now split lip. She saw the exact moment he changed. His eyes seemed to sink further into his head and suddenly he looked sickly. There was a feral glint in his eyes and his tounge was flicking over his lower lips. His grip became impossibly tight, making it impossible for her to move, and he smiled. She realized his mouth had become a gaping hole of sharp teeth, sticky blood, and saliva. She couldn't help the raw scream that tore through her. She trashed away from his waiting jaws and kneed him. He grunted and his grip loosened enough for her to get away. She ran into the parking lot, remembering she didn't have a car and felt herself begin to loose rational thought.

She reached for the pistol in the holster on her stomach when he slammed into her, hands clawing at her neck and shoulders. Lips leaning in to taste.

She gasped at the pain and tried to reach the angelic power, but could not concentrate through the haze of pain and fear. Her body thrashed and his held her still. She recoiled as she felt his tongue slide across her collar bone, following a line of blood. And suddenly he was off of her, his weight gone. She looked up hesitantly and saw ripped flannel and a long mullet.

Motorhead to the rescue. She tried to stand and reach her pistol, but her arms were too weak. She heard Ash grunt in pain and wobbly stood up, her legs threatening to give out. She watched in almost a trance as Ash grappled with the deranged man she had once called a friend. She tugged at the gun and aimed, but couldn't pull the trigger. They were moving too fast and if she took the shot, she was more likely to hit Ash than not. She tried to look for a point of entry, some place where she could slip in and push them apart long enough to take the shot.

And then, a slew of southern tinted curses and a fresh spatter of blood. Ash was on his knees and Blake stood over him and Kat took the shot.

When the body of her former boyfriend sunk into the cement, half his head missing, she ran to Ash. A deep cut across his chest and lower neck spewed blood and it looked like one of his lungs was punctured. His breathing was labored as he collapsed and Kat caught him awkwardly, letting his head and upper torso lean on her knees. At some point she knew she was crying, clinging to him like a child would to their mother and muttering about it going to be 'okay'.

"Hey, hey, hey, no tears," the man grumbled, his mullet soaked with blood, but his eyes still alight. She sniffed them back dutifully and tried to smile. "There's a smile. You know, we could have last minute last-chance sex and we could turn that sad excuse into a shit eating grin," he commented. She laughed, a choked hollow thing, but still a laugh, and her grip on his sleeveless shirt tightened. "Alright fine. How's about a kiss goodbye?" he asked instead. She looked at him and saw the light fading. She couldn't reach the power and they would never make it to a hospital.

"Don't leave," she whimpered.

"Hey, now. I'm sure I'll be partying with Einstein in the afterlife. Don't be sad."

"But I'll miss you."

"I'll miss me too."

"Moron."

"You know you love me."

She smiled and leaned down in the dark parking lot. The moon was full overhead and the stars were out. No had come outside during the fight. No one had seen. Her black hair fell around her face and brushed his, but she made no attempt to move it. She was closer now, and let a little chuckle escape her, as she pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. She couldn't bring herself to let her lips touch his. It was too intimate for what they were. And what they were was simply best friends.

He let out a breathy sigh and a smile and his breathing stopped. Just like that. And in the darkened lot, you could hear a pin drop as the body grew still and the little wisps of warm air meeting cool just faded away.


	90. Chapter 90

**This one is a lot shorter and was very hard for me to write. I was literally trying to swallow around the lump in my throat. Please review, and this is where I leave you for tonight. All my love -Han.**

Kat swallowed, and stood up. Her clothes were covered in blood and her hands were shaking, but she took out her phone and dialed. Dean picked up on the first ring.

"What?" he sounded worried and exhausted.

"I'm at the motel. Come get me," she ordered softly. She went inside and picked up their duffels, stepping carefully over broken glass. She hadn't even realized that he had slammed her into a mirror, not the wall. She didn't think there was any glass in her hair, but she could feel the wetness on her scalp. Twenty minutes later, the Impala rolled in and Dean and Sam got out. They were expecting her to be okay. They thought she would have stayed alone and quiet and been fine.

But her clothes were soaked with blood and she was hugging herself in the parking lot with their bags around her. Dean was the first to reach her but she pushed him away, her eyes on the body to the right of her. He glanced over and saw the familiar mullet.

"Ash," he said in a forlorn whisper. She was nodding, the motion quick and sharp. "Blake?" he asked in reference to the other body. Another sharp nod. He pointed to Sam and he nodded. The taller man nodded and opened the trunk, doing what he had already done twenty or so times that night. Dean picked up their bags and put them in the back. She slid in with them and Dean drove to a knew hotel. It was nicer than the other ones and she thanked him with a stoic face. He left to help Sam prepare the bodies. They would burn them in the morning.

Kat's clothes were bloody. The dark stains making the fabric sticky and wet. Ash's blood. His life. Poured unforgiving onto her stone-washed jeans and grey tank top. She shivered in disgust, the sudden onslaught of guilt and shame was overpowering. She should have stopped the monster before it could strike the final bow. She should have been able to heal him.

She needed to be clean. She needed to scrub away the guilt and blood until her pale skin was raw and spotless. She needed to feel hot water on her body until the creamy skin erupted into red patches. She limped into the glass-paneled shower, grateful they had chosen a nicer motel tonight. She didn't bother taking off her clothes. 'The blood will wash out,' she told herself firmly.

Her back slid down the tiled side and she wrapped her arms around her knees. She knew at some point, she had started to cry. The kind that made no noise. But she wasn't sure where the tears started and the scalding water from the shower-head ended. The water beat down on her, a million droplets, to wash away her pain. She was numb. So comfortably numb.

Her blue eyes were focused on the rivers of blood that flowed from her clothes, to catch clear water. They swirled together, dancing, until disappearing down the drain. It was pretty, she thought absently. Her face tipped back to accept more heavy beads of rapidly falling water.

There was a strange hole in her chest. She couldn't quite explain why it was there, or how it made her feel, but she didn't like it. It made every scar and imperfection stand out so clearly to her. If she was only better…she could have saved him. She wouldn't be living with this never-ending pain. People said that life was good, they clawed and fought viciously to keep it. But was it worth it? The pain was so big. So consuming. Wouldn't it be better to just fade away?

To let the blackness encompass you, until there was nothing left. And the night would keep going on and she would be safe.

Was that too much to ask?

She could faintly hear her name being called from the other side of the door, but she couldn't be sure if it wasn't coming from her own mind. She didn't have to strength to respond either way. There was a heavy weight in her mind, and she couldn't move. The water was keeping her down.

Somewhere in the real world, she heard the unmistakable clicking of a lock being picked. But where she was, the numbness and heat blanketed everything.

The door opened slowly, hesitantly. Dean wasn't sure why he suddenly had to be in the bathroom, but he listened to his gut. Some part of him was sure she would need him. She had been alone in the bathroom for over an hour, and he had to be sure. He had come back with Sam, who left again to go think. And Dean had let him, because it was his younger brothers way of dealing as well as giving him the space he needed to be sure she was okay. and he needed to be sure.

He found her curled in a tight ball, against the shower wall. Her clothes were plastered to her skin and the blood stains were blotchy and maroon. She didn't look up at him, but he could see tears running freely from her eyes. Her black hair lay slick against her neck and shoulders and her body shook under the assault of water.

Dean imagined this was what a small, dejected child would look like. Tiny and worn out. Wearing that look that can only scream desperation and pain. The one that proves you can never understand them, so stop trying. The one that bears their scars. The ones that run so deeply, you can never be sure where they start and the soul ends.

Making up his mind, Dean kicked off his shoes and socks and slipped off his flannel over-shirt. He slid open the glass door and stepped under the spray, and sat quietly beside her. The water was still warm, as he crumpled his tall body to fit beside her. One leg was bent towards him, the other tucked under it, like he was attempting to sit Indian-style and the way Kat was sitting at the same time. He rested his arms on the folded leg and let his eyes follow the streams of mixing color.

His right arm touched hers. Brushing it so softly that neither could be sure if it was really touching. The small comfort drifting between them, a silent communication. One that words could never live up to. No one spoke. Words could not describe them, or what they wanted to say. And no one moved save for Dean's steady and Kat's ragged breathing. He didn't lay an arm over her shoulder. He didn't whisper into her hair. He didn't even move when a dry sob ripped its way from her throat. Kat didn't lean into him, didn't hold onto him, didn't ask him 'why'. They both just sat there, under the pounding water. Because that was enough.


	91. Chapter 91

**Hi! this is 'specially for Ry cause she wont let me rest in peace till I update. Be happy. Read. Review. Love me. and you shall receive more updates. **** oh, I'm also toying with the idea of a Pirates of the Caribbean fic after I finish the few Supernatural ones I have lined up. What say you to that?**

**-Han**

The next morning both brothers were respectfully quiet. Though they wanted to make her smile, they knew they couldn't. They did not protest when she insisted on going to the burning. They knew she needed it.

She opened the bathroom door and stepped into the room. She wore a modest black dress that ended just below her knees in swirls of fabric. The top section was elegantly draped and thin straps. She wore a pair of black heels and her hair was twisted into a braid that rested on her shoulder. Her scars stood out, but she had made no attempt to cover them. Her eyes were free of makeup, but her lips were a soft red. Dean and Sam were dressed no differently than they usually did, but did not argue her choice of attire.

She had that faraway look in her eyes again, as she sat in the back of the Impala. And they knew she was reliving some memory.

_"Ash?" A younger Kat asked the man she deemed her first friend. She was leaning against the bar, watching him type furiously on the laptop. He looked up at her and motioned for her to continue. "How would you want your funeral?"_

_ "That, is a very strange question. Do you plan on killing me any time soon?" he asked sarcastically. She ducked her head._

_ "No! I only ask because I know hunting is dangerous. I'd want people to be dancing and laughing and drinking and playing good music. No crying allowed," she said in her soft, thoughtful voice. "People would still wear black and all that, but I like that color, so it'd be okay."_

_ "You are a very strange girl, do you know that?" She nodded vigorously and he laughed loudly. "Tell ya what, if I die before you, you gotta dress up-" she interrupted with a moan. "That is exactly why too. And you can sing a song too."_

_ "What song?"_

_ "Pick one."_

_ "Wayward Son," her voice was determined and strong. She committed it to memory and accepted the drink he offered. "Do I really have to wear a dress?"_

Kat smiled to herself in the back seat. She would do everything he asked. Even the testament to wear heels that he had added later. She stepped out of the car and walked carefully to the large bonfires. The bodies of the zombies were being burned separately from Ash and Karen. She found Ash easily and stood stiffly in front of his pyre. Her dress blew in front of her slightly in the wind and she yanked out the braid quickly, feeling the need to run her hands through her hair. The ebony strands were slightly curly from the braid and blew in her face.

"I'm here, Ash. All dolled up, just like I promised," she whispered. She watched the flames grow, licking away at her friend. She vaguely knew that Dean and Sam had moved to comfort Bobby, but she wouldn't move. Couldn't. She should have been able to save him, that much was obvious.

If only she had worked harder with her Grace and gotten Castiel to teach her to heal first and foremost, instead of fly. But she had been stupid and now she was watching her best friend burn in front of her. She wanted to reach out and hold his hand, but her body still had the fear of flame. Ever since the brands, fire had not been her friend.

She sighed and felt herself sink to her knees, her head still held high. She looked at the grey sky and let her eyes slip closed. She sat back on her legs and let her fingers weave through the grass. She felt more than saw Dean's eyes on her, but she only gave a tired smile.

_"Carry on my Wayward Son,_

_ There'll be peace when you are done._

_ Lay your weary head to rest,_

_ Don't you cry no more…"_

Dean walked closer and listened to her softly sing one of his favorite songs. He thought it was strange for her to be singing now, but there was a determination in the way she did it. Like it was a promise she was fulfilling. Dean chuckled, it would be just like Ash to demand this to be done at his funeral. He looked back at Bobby, who was too lost in thought about his wife to even notice Ash. Though, he hadn't known him that well to begin with.

Sam joined him and together they listened to the sad song weave through the air and mix with the smoke. Her voice cracked occasionally, but he didn't think it took away from the almost haunting quality of her voice. The song itself had slowed down to sound more like a ballad than a famous rock song. He would never admit it, but he liked this version just as much.

_"Don't you c-cry no more," _she finished, her voice breaking and her head dropping. Dean suddenly recalled what this reminded him of; the Swan Song. That silly and completely untrue legend of the mute swan that sang on its death bed. This was her singing Ash's song for him.

As the last line faded into nothingness, Dean sat beside, much as he had the night before. But this time, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his lap. Cradled against him, she let out a wet sob and he could feel her fingers gripping the collar of his shirt.

"It's okay. Shh. It'll all be okay," he was lying to her. She knew it and he knew it, but he did it anyway. She was nodding against his chest and letting him doing because it felt good and it was good to _feel _something besides blackness and pain. He was pulling her back from the edge and she was grateful.

When she finally lifted her head, he gave her a smile. He didn't look the least bit uncomfortable with holding her, only sad and worried. His green eyes were searching her blue for some form of rational thought that hadn't been there last night. Apparently he found it, because his smile grew a bit and he pressed his lips to her forehead.

"C-can we g-go now?" she whispered. She didn't want to wait for Ash to become his name. Dean nodded and helped her stand. She hugged him around the waist and let go, walking to Bobby. "Holding up?" she asked.

"No better than you," he answered gruffly. She nodded her understanding and leaned against him gently.

"I can't tell you anything you don't already know, or haven't heard before," she told him, looking at the pyre.

"I know."

"But I'll tell you one thing anyway. I'm always here."

"I know." This time it was gentle and soft, almost a whisper. "Same for you. You always have a home here."

"I intend to rob that advantage," she replied. He chuckled lowly and nodded to the Impala.

"Best be goin'."

"I best be."

"Idjit."

"I love you too," she answered, hugging him and walking back to the car. She slipped into the back and stretched out, her sadness feeling almost tangible. But she also knew that Ash would hate for her to wallow in it. So she gave a sad smile out the window and looked at Dean. He took the hint and immediately began telling her of the blundering awkwardness that was Sammy's first girlfriend.

By the end of the story, Kat was howling with laughter and Sam was blushing a fiery red. Dean just laid it on thicker and thicker until Kat raised her hands in mock-surrender.

"Stop! I-I can't take anymore!" she pleaded through fits of giggles. Sam groaned in appreciation and Dean snickered to himself. Kat grew quiet again and signaled for Dean to turn up the radio. He did so and she turned down her windows, singing along to anything that came on and letting her hair be blown in the wind.

In the next nameless town, Dean pulled into a motel. Kat slipped easily beneath the sheets and looked at Dean with wide eyes. He hesitated before climbing in beside her, rolling over to face her.

"Are you okay?"

"No."

"Are you going to be?"

"Maybe."

"What are you going to do?"

"Fight."

He smiled gently and let his fingers skim her cheek. He could see how hard she was working to be cheery, smiling and bright. It caused a rift to split his chest. She shouldn't have to do that. She should be allowed to break down. But she refused to let herself. What he saw the previous night was as broken as he would ever be allowed to see her and he knew it. "I'll be right there with you."

"Promise?" now her voice was soft and child-like.

"Promise." He smiled, thinking she was done.

"Cross your heart?" she asked, staring straight into his eyes. She wasn't joking and he could feel the urgency for him to answer. He leveled his gaze and let his thumb trace lazy circles on her skin. It was killing him to see her like this, so lost and scared. He had to bring her back. To make the smile genuine and the laugh easy. He had to be there for her.

And then he knew he loved her. Really loved her. His lips twitched into a smile as he found himself okay with that. He would never act on it, that much was obvious. He could still see the grief burning brightly in her eyes, and the shaking of her fingers. And she deserved more. More than him and more than this life. He wouldn't tie her to it by admitting what he felt. But he still had to give her the assurance she needed.

His arms wove around her and crushed her to his chest, cradling her from the world. His fingers wove into her hair and she snuggled into his warm body. His whisper was strong and even, ringing with the truth of his words.

"Cross my heart."


	92. Chapter 92

**Hello my darlings! I got a new reviewer! –happy dancing- thanks to Tayla Wayland who reviewed this for the first time. :D. sorry I haven't been writing much, I'm having mega writers block. To get rid of it I've been free writing a humor insert Pirates fic. Let me know if you want me to post it. All my love. Please Review! –Han**

"Cas?" Kat called out the next morning. She heard the flutter of wings and looked behind her to see the fallen angel. His cobalt eyes were downcast, and his shoulders slumped. "What's wrong?" she asked immediately, forgetting her reasons for calling him.

She was outside the motel in jeans and one of Dean's shirts. The air was still cool, but beginning to warm with the promise of summer. They were somewhere in Missouri, she thought so anyway. She was never quite sure anymore. It didn't really matter to her either. Every place was different, so names only blended.

"I failed you," he said in his gruff manner. Her eyes widened with confusion and she stepped closer to him.

"What on Earth are you talking about?" she asked with honest shock in her voice.

"I should have helped you fight that _thing_," he seethed, refusing to call Blake by his name. "I should have taught you to heal. I should have been able to save your friend."

"Cas…" she cupped his cheek. "It wasn't your fault. None if it was. This was an occupational hazard and it was sad, but we can't dwell on it. Ash wouldn't want it," she said more to herself than anything. The angel shook his head.

"I am your father. It's my job to protect you," he said forcefully. She smiled the slightest bit, hugging him closer.

"Sometimes things just happen, Cas. And we can't blame ourselves. We just have to pick ourselves up and go back to war. We have to fight for who we've lost and learn from out mistakes."

"You are insightful," he murmured, finally returning the hug.

"I often give myself very good advice, but I very seldom follow it," she said smiling to herself. He didn't seem to get the reference. "It's from Alice and Wonderland."

"Where's Wonderland? Who's Alice? Why was she there?" he asked quickly, his eyes sparkling with intrigue. She smiled brightly, happy to feed his ever growing knowledge of humans.

"It was originally a book, but I saw the kids movie. It's a about a little girl who…" she went on to explain all about it and the pair of them ended up sitting in the parking lot, her hands moving frantically as she explained and his eyes locked on her. When she finished the story she paused. "Wait a minute. How did we get on this topic? Anyway, I digress; none of this was your fault."

Castiel blinked at the change in topic and found himself nodding. "I think I should teach you to heal now," he said softly. She nodded her agreement and stood up.

The angel followed her back inside where Dean looked up from his guns and Sam from his laptop. "Thought you died out there," Dean grunted by way of greeting. She patted him on the shoulder and sat cross-legged on the bed.

"Sammy?" Sam looked back up. "Can you find a way to rent Pirates of the Caribbean? I have a feeling I'm going to be tired after this and Dean needs to see it."

"Why does he need to see it?"

"Because he doesn't realize that he and Jack are practically the same person," she said sighing deeply. Sam chuckled and nodded.

"I see your point. They are a lot alike."

"I still don't really see how," Dean piped up.

"The thing he loves most in the world is his ship, the Black Pearl. What do you love most? Baby," Sam explained, remembering to say the Impala's name and not just call it a car. Dean looked thoughtful for a moment then shrugged.

"He can't be all bad then."

Sam stood up and grabbed the keys, before leaving the three in silence. Castiel looked at Kat carefully. "Are you ready?"

"Yup. What do you have to do?" She asked. He produced a small dagger and looked sheepishly at her. "Give it here." He handed it over and she noted that Dean had left his spot and was ready to protest. "Don't. Say. Anything." He nodded mutely, realizing how badly she needed this.

She took a deep breath and slid the sharp edge across her forearm. The wound was shallow, but she still watched the trickle of red fall from the cut. It stung and she winced from it, but looked at Cas, ready to continue. The angel watched the blood, upset that he had to do this. He could see the pain, physical and emotional as she worked. The slice of the blade separating her flesh and he watched the blood flow out.

He instructed her to go back to the state of meditation, this time not using Dean. He would not always be there to assist her and she needed to learn to access the Grace by herself. Her eyes slid closed and her breaths steadied. The fingers of her left hand traced the cut and both men watched the creamy skin become stained with rusty red.

Just when Castiel was about to let Dean go to her, she inhaled sharply. Her fingers folded until only two remained, and she pressed sharply on the open wound. Dean would swear, years later, that he had seen the energy crackle through her and transfer to the cut. It happened slower than when Castiel would heal one of them. It didn't happen in the blink of an eye, so fast you couldn't see. No. It happened so slowly that Dean could literally see the skin knit itself back together. The excess blood burning away with a sizzle.

When it was over almost ten seconds later, her skin was clear. The only proof that anything had happened was the bloody fingers. She opened her eyes and grinned at Dean.

"Can I do it again?" Castiel nodded and handed her the knife again. She drew a slightly deeper cut and feel back into the state. It only took a minute to reach it and heal it that time. Dean smiled proudly at her and reached for the knife.

"Try it on someone else," he whispered. She shook her head, but he didn't listen. He extended his forearm, drawing a thin line with the tip of the knife. He twitched slightly at the pain then looked expectantly at Kat. His bright green eyes were full of confidence. He knew she could do this, and he trusted her to get it done. She looked nervously at Cas and closed her eyes.

This time the Grace came quickly, rushing through her bloodstream and making her muscles tremble. Without her permission, her hands came to rest on Dean's arm. Her fingers trailed up the warm skin and she felt her heart beat faster. When her slim fingers finally found the wound she felt the energy flow through her. A smile graced her face as she blindly caressed the wound until it closed. Her eyes opened and she traced the healed skin a few times before finally releasing him.

Dean missed the feel of her fingers blindly searching his skin. He exhaled shakily and opened his own eyes, which had slid closed in ecstasy. He should learn to control himself. He readjusted his jeans inconspicuously and looked at her with pride.

Castiel had watched the exchange and smiled a little sadly. He had just found her and already her heart was being stolen by his charge. He wasn't sure how to feel about it, but decided that if anyone should be the one to take his daughters love, it should be Dean. What he didn't understand was why neither would admit they felt something. The angel would be the first to admit that he had rarely see Dean as gentle as he was around her. And she was never so alive. He couldn't see why they would hide what they felt. It made no sense to him.

Kat smiled her thanks to Dean's obvious pride in her. She looked up as Sam opened the door, walking back in with an oblivious smile on his face. Dean slipped the dagger into his boot carefully and Kat shifted nervously.

"Did I miss something?" he asked, confusion on his face. Kat smiled brightly.

"Did you get the movie?" she asked, excitement evident.

"Yea, here," he answered, tossing it to her. She caught it and jumped up, slipping over the TV and the DVD player. When she was done she turned back around. Castiel had flown away, as she suspected, and both boys were on their respective beds. She pressed play and crawled next to Dean. Her head leaned against his chest and her fingers linked with his unconsciously.

For a moment they were human. Watching the cursed pirates and the infamous Jack. For a moment they were normal, having a movie night. If they ignored the cheesy motel décor and the stale smell of the sheets, they could pretend that they were at the movies. For a moment they were just…people. Friends. And…it was nice. Nicer than any of them would admit.


	93. Chapter 93

**This is another one of Dean's thoughts, seeing the softer side of him, as it were. Any who, review to let me know if you want something like this done again. I'll be updating again tomorrow night at the latest, to try and make up for the past two weeks I've been mean to you. Love- Han**

The night was dark, but soft. The silver light of the moon caressing them under the cool air. He was watching her, trying to fathom her. The porcelain skin he had come to know the feel of shown a pale white under the full moon. The silky black hair was splayed across her face and his chest, tickling the bare skin. Her fingers had started in the crook of his neck and had woven into his short hair in her sleep. Her dark lashes barely brushed against her cheeks, and a small smile stretched her dusky lips.

Before he could stop himself, he was tracing the lower lip with his own slim fingers. A small moan escaped her now parted lips and she snuggled deeper into him. He allowed himself a chuckle and let his hand move to glide over her face, tracing her features with a feather-light touch. He moved down her neck and arms and he couldn't help but wish he could give this attention with his lips. He wished he could let them trail liquid fire across her skin and have her sighing in ecstasy beneath him. He wanted to make her moan and feel her heartbeat stutter.

He stopped himself before his thoughts could lead his astray. They were dangerous thoughts to be having and he was far enough up shit creek. No need to give up his paddle.

He smiled to himself and went back to looking at her. The scars on her arms stood out in sharp relief and he couldn't help but think they were beautiful. Her other arm was stuck under her pillow and his neck, and one of her legs was slung over his. He grinned to himself and let his hand trail down the side of her ribs, not touching anything that would get him in trouble. He could feel the muscles contract as he skimmed them, and felt her shudder in her sleep. The grin fell into a smirk. It seemed he could affect her. It was a nice boost to his ego.

The fingers slipped further down, pausing at her waist. The hipbone was sharp and he could feel the slight-v her muscles created around it. The elastic waistband of the girl-boxers she wore were slung low on her hips, and he felt himself tracing the edge. She was beautiful. It wasn't often that Dean would call a woman beautiful and mean it. Usually it was hot or sexy or sometimes cute. But she was beautiful.

He wasn't quite sure when he fell in love with her, for Dean knew he was in love with her, but he didn't really care. It was a feat in itself for him to love anyone outside of his tight-knit family. And thought he knew, he would never love anyone as much as he loved Sam, Kat came damn close. Too close for comfort. It wasn't everyday Dean Winchester's heart was stolen. He would bet his hard scammed money that she didn't even realize that she had.

Sometimes he couldn't believe she was so oblivious. How could she not feel it when he was staring at her, lost in thought? How could she not understand the depth of his words when he talked to her? How could she not feel what he felt when he touched her, when he spoke to her? How could she not realize that she had him wrapped around her finger with no chance of getting away?

Of course, that was one of the more endearing things about her. She could see through his walls, unless they were about her. She could break through barriers, unless they were centered around his feelings for her. It was almost comical, really. In a sick, sad kind of way. She would never know how he felt, because he could never tell her and she couldn't see it on her own.

She mumbled in her sleep and pressed herself closer to him. Her head shifted and suddenly her lips were pressed to the hollow of his throat. His breath turned ragged as she continued to mumble, making her soft lips move against his skin. Goosebumps broke out on his flesh and his eyes rolled from the pleasure. How could she undo him with the simple touch?

"Ash…" she mumbled, clearer this time. He felt like hitting himself. How dare he think like this when she was grieving. Hell. When he was grieving. Ash had been his friend too. And he missed the crazy Skynyrd rodie. But he had lost too many people to let it get to him. He had to be strong for Sam and Kat. Especially Kat. It was strange that someone as strong as her could break so completely. It didn't seem right for her to be sad or upset.

His hand came back up to stroke her face soothingly. She sighed gently and leaned towards the touch. She hummed unconsciously and the fingers in his hair tightened reflexively. "Dean…" now it was his name that fell from her parted lips like a sigh on the wind. He felt himself smile; she was thinking of him. And her lips were back on his skin and he could feel the smile she wore. His thumb traced circles on her cheek and his green eyes never left her.

He was in over his head and he knew it. He just hoped that his feelings wouldn't impact his job. This was a dangerous life to have feelings in. He knew his devotion to his brother alone was dangerous. He had sold his soul for his brother, that was proof enough of how far he would go. He knew it would be dangerous for him to be willing to do that for more than his brother. But Dean couldn't help but think he would go to the ends of the Earth for this girl.

And strangely, he was okay with that.


	94. Chapter 94

**Sorry for the wait! IMPORTANT! School starts tomorrow –gasps- where has the time gone? Any who, my updates will no doubt be slower, but I'm going to be working as hard as I possibly can to keep them flowing strong! All my Love –Han**

Sam could see his brother was in love. It was so obvious it was almost painful. But then again, he knew his brother better than he knew anyone, even himself. From an outsiders point of view, someone might think that Dean cared for her. Not love. But Sam could see it. There were subtle things, glances of concern that Sam once thought his brother reserved just for him.

He wasn't jealous. At least, not enough for it to register as a real feeling, more like a passing frown. He had never known his brother like this, and he couldn't help but wonder what it would have been like had they not met her. Had she not crawled into their hearts and minds. Then Sam remembered the hollow, callused man that rose from the deepest pits of Hell and took back any bad thoughts. In fact, he was dangerously overjoyed by the prospect of his brother finding love. Real love.

Love like he had with Jess.

It was strange. Kat was nothing like her, but still reminded him of her. Something in the way she cared for people she barely knew. And he knew she cared for Dean too. He wasn't sure how deep the feelings went, sure that she had yet to admit it to herself even, but he was sure she cared. Deeply. There was something about the way she looked at him in the morning, when he was still asleep. She looked at Dean the way he remembered Jess had looked at him. A raw compassion coupled with fascination. Like she could have eternity to look at him and it would never be enough.

He just wished the two would get over their qualms and just admit how they felt. He knew better than almost anyone (except Dean) how very short life was. He knew you had to love while you could. He knew you had to enjoy life's joys, no matter how fleeting.

He sighed to himself and got out of the Impala. They'd been driving for hours, making it to another nameless town and now they were going to eat in another nameless diner. But that wasn't right, Sam thought. The town did have a name, Seneca. It had a population of 1,234, as the sign proudly proclaimed. The diner was a wooden complex sprawled out just off the homely Highway 11, and it was humbly named Aunt Sue's.

He entered the diner/ BBQ-joint/ sandwich shop. They were all the same to him, really. He slid into a booth and noted that Kat sat beside him, but kept her eyes on Dean. And him the same to her. It was like a dance, daring the other to make the first move and start the inevitable tango. Ridiculous to say the least.

Needless to say, the combination of Bobby's words in the Salvage Yard, Ash's death, the stress of the world ending, and a ten hour car ride were certainly wearing on him. He had become almost numb after his friends death, feeling the need to stay as strong as Dean. It wasn't something he did often, but it was clear to him that Kat needed some form of stability. But he thought, it was finally catching up to him.

What he needed was a break. What he would get was a bigger problem to tackle. It always happened that way, so he decided to just give up on the whole false hope mantra. It wasn't worth the disappointment.

As if sensing his foul mood, the youngest of the three immideatly engaged him in conversation. Today's topic was world politics and the upcoming election. Neither of them could vote, having too many warrants out for them, but both were interested. He was not surprised to find her more liberal in leaning, and found himself quickly enthralled with the topic. He could talk for days about anything he knew something about, but politics was something he was rarely able to indulge in.

Dean just watched in something close to amusement as his brother and his girl (as she could be nothing less, even if she didn't know she was) discussed the world as if they were your average tax payers. He wondered what the homely people in the shop would think if they knew what they did for an unpaid living.

Sometimes he wished he could get some credit. He saved peoples lives on a daily basis without the abilities (or cape) of Superman, and got nothing in return. Most of the time he felt like Spiderman, being beaten down publicly while spending his time trying to save the very people who thought him a criminal. It was ridiculous. He would look horrible in spandex.

He remembered asking his father about this once, and having the answer drilled so far into his memory that he couldn't finish a case without thinking about it. It wasn't that no one would believe them (you would be surprised by what people will believe), it was about not letting more innocent souls be dragged into his world. A world so dark and evil, sometimes Dean himself was afraid of being sucked into the void, only to be spit out as a monster. No. No more people than absolutely necessary needed to know of the things that lay in the dark.

He wondered if the president knew about demons. If he were a demon, he would go after the president. All the power to wield over an unsuspecting populace. Would the secret service let you perform an exorcism on the president? He was pulled back down to the conversation before him as they discussed the possible candidates. He smirked and cut across the seemingly endless talking points with what social grace he had.

"Who ever it is, do you think they about all this?" he asked, looking around at the people in earshot. Sam looked confused so he clarified. "About our line of work?" That put the two talkers in silence for a moment, until Kat's tentative voice cut through.

"I think they would have to…it would be too dangerous not to. Maybe someone in the guard knows and tells them? Hey Sam, do you think Cheney was possessed?" she asked looking at the young man. He grinned.

"Maybe that's why he shot his friend," he replied easily.


	95. Chapter 95

**Okie dokie, listen up! My free writing thingy turned out NOT to be a cheesy insert, and it's pretty much done. I'm giving you guys a sneak peek and you TELL me if you want me to post it.**

**To Be Free:**

"_Whatcha thinkin' of, love?" Jack asked, trying to follow her gaze._

_ "I feel like a star," she said after a moment of silence. Jack gave her a curious look, as if concerned with her sanity. "Look at them. There are so many, and they shine. But they blend into the background. You don't see just one in particular, you see the whole. And they're so close to one another, but never quite able to reach. Separated by empty space and forgotten in the sky," she whispered. "No one thinks of them. They think of the sun and the moon and the rain and the clouds…not the stars. They're always left behind."_

_ "I wouldn't leave you behind," the words were just a whisper on the wind, so low she wasn't sure if he said them._

**And now we begin. Love me, for there is romance. The second half (you should be able to tell when) was inspired by the song Hurricane by Thirty Seconds to Mars and I highly recommend listening to it while you read. -Han**

Dean walked back into the current motel tired, but pleased. They had wrapped up this hunt quickly, the demons responsible for the local deaths were now dead and gone. And Sam and Dean had only maybe possibly died once. They were brought back so quickly that neither could be sure if they actually died, but they were pretty sure they had. They had been reckless before this, of course, but ever since Ash's death, they'd been worse. Neither could explain it, they just didn't think caution was necessary anymore. They wouldn't _stay_ dead, so there was nothing to worry about.

In fact, since Ash's death a short three weeks prior, the brothers had died a grand total of twenty seven times. By Dean's count anyway. It became to the point that it didn't even hurt all that much. And that was something to be said, since he knew how badly it _could_ hurt.

He tossed a bag of previously purchased Gummie Bears to the wanting Kat, who was pointedly ignoring him. Apparently she had grown exasperated with his many reckless moves, and he was trying to bribe his way back into the good books. Sam only had to turn the puppy eyes on her and she caved. But for some reason, Dean was having to work for it.

Kat didn't think she could handle seeing him die again. Every time the fire went out of his eyes, she felt a piece of her break. Every time his breaths stopped, she had been sure the angels wouldn't bother. That they would let him lie and she would have to burn him. She knew she couldn't handle that. She accepted the gold package and tore into it readily.

"Why do I have to work for it?" Dean finally asked, sitting on the bed next to her. He could hear the shower through the thin wall and knew he would not get another chance to talk to her.

It was silent for a while and then she looked at him. Her blue eyes were pleading with him to understand. Clearly she didn't want to have to say it out loud. "Because you're not even trying to stop it anymore," she whispered. He wasn't trying to prevent it. He was almost welcoming it.

"I don't have to, they'll just bring me back," he reminded her.

"That's not the point!" she snapped, glaring at her. She sighed and sunk down. "It-it just that…you make it seem like you don't want to live." Her voice was so soft, he barely heard it. He sat up sharply and looked at her. Her eyes were downcast and she was fiddling with her fingers. He sighed and rolled over to hover over her.

For a moment he allowed himself the enjoy the sensation of her wriggling in surprise beneath him. He shook himself and fixed her with a penetrating look.

"You think I'm going to leave," he whispered. She couldn't meet his eyes, and stared at his shoulder. A feral growl from deep within his chest made her nod slightly in confirmation. He sighed in almost disapproval. "You're insane," he told her, almost talking to himself. "How could you think I would ever leave you?"

"It's hard not to when you're constantly getting yourself killed!" she replied, her eyes regaining their fierce quality and locking onto his.

"I'm not trying to! I'm just doing what I have to, to get the job done! You're a moron if you think I want to die! I've been down that road and trust me, I don't plan on going back!"

She went quiet and looked at him carefully. Her eyes had softened and her hand moved to cup his cheek. "I'm sorry. I know you don't like to think about it," she whispered.

"It's fine. I-I just…this means I can save more people. I have to use it," he pleaded. She nodded reluctantly and tried to smile. "Why were you so concerned in the first place?" he teased, trying to lighten the mood.

"It's horrible," she whispered, still serious. "Watching you die. I can see the exact moment when you do and it-it just…" she trailed off, unable to finish. He looked curiously at her. "I've seen enough people die in my time. So have you. I just, I just hate seeing it happen over and over again. I just keep thinking, one time…you won't wake up," she whispered.

He shifted and pressed his lips carefully to her forehead. "Shh, it's okay. What was it you said? I may not always be here, but I'll never really leave." he asked, turning her words against her.

"Doesn't make it any less painful," she replied, looking at him. He nodded, pursing his lips.

"I know…but sometimes, things just happen," he tried to explain it. She only nodded, accepting what he was saying and hating it all the same. Suddenly she hated this life, when she had never felt anything less than love and adrenaline. She'd never felt like she would really truly loose someone, like she'd lost Ash. And now she lived with the constant fear that Bobby or Cas or Sam or even Dean could be next. She had no idea how she would live with the pain.

She wasn't sure how late she stayed up, just staring into his eyes, but she knew eventually, she succumbed to exhaustion. She was faintly aware of Dean's breaths evening out, as he too fell asleep. Her last thought was of how much it would hurt to loose him forever.

When Dean awoke again it was to the softness of lips being pressed to the hollow of his throat. At first he thought it was an accident, that she had just fallen asleep that way, but then they began to hesitantly move. Placing sweet kisses across his skin and making him sigh.

"Kat?" he asked groggily, being pulled from his subconscious. A look to his left told him that Sam was out for some reason, and it was still dark. But no worry registered in his brain.

"Yes?" she asked breathlessly against his neck, her hands cupping his face and throat. He looked and found her blue eyes, clouded with desire and want. He sat up hesitantly, but she moved with him, now on her knees, bending over to continue the kisses.

"What are you doing?" he asked, shock so clear in his voice that she stopped. She leaned back, her mouth quivering and her eyes wide.

"Do you want me to stop?" she asked, just above a whisper. He could hear her voice crack and reached over to turn on a light. The lamp was old and dim, casting a warm glow through the room.

"No! Just…w-why are you doing this now?" he asked, crawling out of the bed to stand. She followed him, looking ethereal in the half light.

"Because I want you, and I'm tired of fighting it," she whimpered. "What if you left? And I never told you, never acted. I-I had to," she looked pleadingly at him.

And as if a switch had been flipped in the room, suddenly Dean slammed her into the walls of the motel. His eyes were burning with unrestrained want and his body thrummed and he thought he might explode in a shower of sparks and flame. She looked at him without fear and threaded her hands behind his neck, pulling their faces close.

"Do you really want me?" he asked, his voice a husky whisper. He was teasing her, toying with her. In response, she jerked his head down to meet hers and their lips crashed together.

It was better than Dean ever could have imagined, sweet and soft and vicious and unrelenting. All the pain and fear was poured into it, and he felt like he was dying and being born. One hand braced him against the wall and the other crushed her to him, angling her head for better access.

He could feel the heat rising from her cheeks as she blushed and felt himself smirking. Their lips battled for survival and her nails dug slightly into the tender flesh of his neck. Dean no longer had control.

No matter how many times he told himself 'no'. No matter how many times he told himself to pry his lips from hers and retreat to a dark corner, he couldn't do it. Because her mouth was eager on his and her lips parted when he swiped his tongue across the lower. Because his thoughts wouldn't stay in one direction and he was drowning in the hurricane.

And he knew that no matter how many times he died, he would never forget the feel of her beneath him. When they finally came up for air, he turned his attention to her neck, placing rough kisses across the fragile skin and letting his teeth skim across. When he met the crook of her shoulder, he bit down slightly, enticed with the moan she shuddered out. He soothed the spot with tender kisses until she was writhing beneath him.

When he pulled back, she flipped them over, pushing him sharply into the wall with a crack and letting her fingers explore his chest over the fabric of his shirt. She crashed back to him and he felt the burning in his veins. 'Let it burn,' he thought as she dragged her teeth over his lower lip.

And then there was just them and lips and teeth and tongues and Dean never wanted to surface. "I love you," he whispered against her lips, his hands threading in her hair. "I love you so fucking much."

And then he woke up.


	96. Chapter 96

**I feel horrible that I haven't updated, but I have more homework than I thought I would. YES. I will do another chapter in the next few hours, probably more than one. This is one of my favorite episodes, and I want to take the time to do it right. the first two chapters of To Be Free are up and running, and I would really appreciate review –puppy eyes- please?**

**Love!**

**-Han**

Dean had been hunted by other hunters before. Well, his brother had, which was worse. But now that Ash was dead, they had no one telling the right story in the Roadhouse. Coincidentally, John had made a lot of enemies, and they wanted an excuse for any form of revenge. Turns out, starting the Apocalypse counted.

He was surprised too.

Plus side, now they knew what to look for. The specific patterns that the majority of hunters couldn't help but adhere to. Good thing Dean wasn't part of a majority. Their moves were now strategic and careful, never staying more than an hour after a hunt was finished and sleeping in the car a lot more often than in a motel.

Kat understood, and as it turned out, she was helpful. Being no bounty on her head, more often than not, she was their public face. She did most of the inquiries and interviews, making it harder for them to track the brothers.

Apparently, he was bound to make a slip up some time. Because he did.

The hunt had been so brutal. None of them were awake enough to drive and their room wasn't due until the morning. So they slept in beds that night and savored every moment of it. Dean thought he was sleeping on a cloud, not the lumpy mattress. The scratchy cotton sheets were the finest silk and that stain on the carpet was a design, not some sort of bodily fluid. For one night anyway.

In the morning, Dean was vaguely aware that Kat wasn't next to him. Even in sleep, he would know. Thanks to his fathers' very strict training, he also knew someone was in the room with him. Someone outside of the group he'd acclimated himself too. He pried open his tired eyes and swore in his head. They couldn't see he was awake. They wore masks, why he didn't know. If they were going to kill him, they shouldn't wear masks.

Two men. Hunters. With large rifles. Dean thought they were compensating for something. If they wanted to kill him, a Berretta would be just as quick. Probably even cleaner. But not, they were shotguns.

He slipped his hand casually under his pillow and felt around for his favored pistol.

"Looking for this?" one man asked. Roy, he recognized him now. The clip was ejected from the his hand and Dean's inner monologue was beginning to get colorful. Dean sat up slowly and saw that Sam was already awake and dressed, looking stressed. As he should, considering the other's gun was pointed at him.

"Mornin'" Dean said casually, his eyes flicking around the room. Kat wasn't there. Sam gave and almost imperceptible shake of his head. She wasn't in the room. Or dead. Good.

"Shut up. Hands were I can see 'em," Roy said.

Dean lifted his hands, sitting up straighter and eyed him. He put on a mock-surprised face and looked the mask. "Wait a minute. Is that you Roy? Which would make you Walt. Hiya, Walt," he said amicably.

"Don't matter," Walt said, lifting a hand to move the mask. Roy did the same with his, looking slightly disgruntled.

"Well is it just me, or do you two look a tad upset?" Dean asked mockingly. Keep up the humor, distract. Distract.

"You think you can just flip the switch on the Apocalypse and walk away, Sam?" Walt asked, ignoring Dean.

Damn! New Plan, new plan. Brute force? No. Still has a gun. Where the hell was Kat when he needed her?

"Who told you that?" Sam asked in a shocked voice.

"We ain't the only hunters after you. And you ain't got Ash to protect you no more. Hey Roy, do y'think we'll get that little bitch they been travelin' with?" Walt asked, smirking.

"I dunno," Roy said with a pump of his shotgun. Walt repeated the motion.

"That girl ain't loved by many o' us. Ungrateful bitch," Walt said. Roy gave him a wary look.

"Shut up," Dean and Sam snarled together. Walt pointed his gun at Sam.

"See you in the next life," he said with a demented glint in his eyes.

"Hear me out," Sam said quickly, raising his hands. "I can explain. Please." His eyes were wide and his expression fell into his signature puppy look. If it could get his Dad to stop being a hardass, maybe it could save him. There was a split second pause where both boys hoped.

And then everything was cut off as a shot sounded and bullet pierced him. For a moment there was only pain. Blinding and searing. And then there was emptiness. And Sam Winchester knew nothing more.

Dean jumped up to get him, his mouth forming Sam's name but his voice not complying. This was too many times, to have watched him die. His heart was breaking and his soul was tearing to pieces, just like it always did.

"Stay the hell down!" Roy shouted. Dean sat down slowly, his eyes never leaving his brother's broken and bloodied form.

"You son of a _bitch!_"

All three remaining men turned at the sight before them. Kat was in skinny jeans and a batman shirt, her hair in a pony tail and her eyes ringed with liner. They were wide, horror struck. The tray of breakfast she'd been carrying was forgotten on the floor. Her lips were forming his name over and over and Dean empathized.

"Well, if it isn't Miss Kitty," Walt spat.

"Kat," She said numbly. "Dean why isn't he getting up? He's usually up by now," her voice was steadily growing more frantic. "I told you! I told you this would happen."

Dean made no move to go to her, and she made no move to go to him. Roy looked to be softening and then he said something that had everyone shocked.

"I'm real sorry about your recent losses," he murmured. Walt shot him a sharp look and he didn't attempt to say anything more.

"Sam. Oh god, Sam," She whispered. A shotgun was pointed at her and she hardened immediately. There was no trace of grief in her posture, only hate and anger. "You think you've done the world a favor? _Hah!_ You're going to rot in Hell for what you just did, and nothing will save you. _Nothing_!" she shouted her eyes fierce and the silver blooming. Walt had heard enough apparently, because another shot rang out. Kat crumpled to the floor, her heart attempting to beat around the bullet. She died exactly two minutes later, from lack of oxygen in her blood.

"Why would you do that?" Roy asked. "She ain't done nothin'!"

"Do you want to live the rest of your life knowin' Dean Winchester and Kat are on your ass? I don'," he said. "Shoot him."

"But- killin' Sam was justified. Kill him isn'," he said, looking carefully at Dean.

"We ain't got a choice. It's kill or be killed," Walt instructed.

Dean seemed to come back to Earth. He'd just watched his brother die (again) and then the woman he loved was taken. And there was no one would bring her back. There was always the chance would return, but her? She was gone forever. It hurt just as much as seeing Sam die, even with knowing he might be back.

"Go ahead, Roy! Do it!" he baited. His chest hurt too much to breath adequately and his heart was pumping too fast. His nerves were much too alive and he could feel the tingling in his fingers. "But I'm warning you now, when I wake up, I'm going to be pissed. And you two will be the first to know," he hissed, his eyes flashing and his jaw seating. Both men were too manly to admit that the man before them was frightening. "C'mon! Let's get this show on the road!" he shouted, growing impatient.

"Come on already," Walt snapped. Roy gulped and paled, but did as he was told. He stepped forward, his arms raising and his finger jerking on the trigger.

Dean was pushed back by the blow of it, dying instantly. The world abruptly became dark and painful. And then…nothing


	97. Chapter 97

Kat awoke sharply, she breathed deeply, enticed with the air in her lungs. She looked around and spotted Dean. She poked him, looking around. They were in the Impala, and Dean's leather jacket was on. She smiled at the faint music in the background and looked outside. There was a large open field to the right, and road in front of her. She tried to quiet the urge inside her to get out and follow it.

The last thing she remembered was waking up this morning to go for coffee and breakfast. Nothing else. For some reason, this didn't seem odd to her. She realized that Dean was not going to wake up, and could no longer stop herself. She opened the Impala door and stepped outside, the night sky dark around her. She could see more stars than usual, and realized they must be far away from any town or city. Her Converse hit the pavement and she stepped out of the car.

In any other situation she would have stayed with Dean. I mean, why wouldn't she? It was just common sense. But that part of her brain apparently wasn't in operation, because she stood easily in the dark.

She was took a step further down the road and smiled brightly. A small black kitten was slinking out of the woods on the opposite side of the field. She dropped to her haunches and cooed at the creature. It nudged her outstretched hand with its nose and purred.

Kat blinked and the sun was shining. A green lawn was beneath her and the sky was bright and blue. A baby girl, no older than a year, was next to her. She gasped and went to move.

"Kat!" the girl said, obviously making an effort to form the road. "Kat, cat!" she exclaimed, pointing first at her and then at the kitten that had curled into her lap.

"S-Susie?" she asked, her eyes wide and her fingers shaking. She remembered this. The year before she'd been taken. It was just a day to play with her family. Andrea was a few feet away, doing tumble rolls through the sprinkler in a one-piece. Jamie was with their father, laughing as the man tried to teach the four-year old poker. Her mother was painting on an easel. Her auburn hair was pulled into a sloppy bun and her fingers were covered in paint.

"Kathy, why do you let her call you that?" Her mother asked, not looking up. Kat smiled remembering it all. Susie hadn't been able to say 'Kathy', and she hadn't even tried to change her little sisters speech. Her mother, on the other hand, wanted her to call her by the nickname the rest of the family did.

"I like it," she answered, falling easily into the memory.

Her mother smiled, seeming satisfied with the answer. She looked up from her work and gasped. "That's a black cat! It's bad luck."

"But it's not crossing my path. It's layin' on my lap," she responded, unsure why the conversation flowed so easily. Her voice was normal and she looked the same she did earlier, but her mother talked to her like she was four. And she talked back like she was four.

She turned back to the kitten, to see it had shifted and was purring against Susie's hand now. She grinned and moved the cat suddenly. It paused a moment and then sauntered over to Andrea, its tail flicking contently. Kat stood up and picked up her sister by the arms. She hitched the girl at her hip and looked at her intently.

The young face was grinning and bright. Her mother's green eyes and dark hair, curling wildly around her face. She was so young and innocent and beautiful. And then, Kat was spinning in circles, swinging Susie as she went, both giving carefree laughs.

The bright colors around her blurred until all she could see were the bright pair of green eyes before her. Susie smiling and giggling and alive. When she finally stopped, the pair of them fell back onto the grass, Kat gasping for breath and rolling onto her stomach to look at the little one next to her.

This was the best dream she'd ever had.

Dean pried open his eyes and looked around himself curiously. It was dark out, and the Impala was almost cold, but not quite. He blinked slowly and opened the door. His head jerked sharply to the side as he heard the trunk close. His body tensed, muscles coiling, prepared for anything. He turned slowly and furrowed his eyebrows as Sam walked around.

Not right.

_Teenage_ Sam. Thirteen, it looked about. He was holding a box of fireworks and looking all the world like a pyromaniac, with the excited glint in his eyes. Dean remembered how rare it was to see that.

"Sammy?" he asked, his head cocking to the side, a habit he was beginning to pick up from Cas and Kat.

"Come on let's go," Sam said, walking out into the large field beside the car. Dean took a minute to look him over. Sam was shorter than him, for once, and his hair was already floppy and in his eyes. A boyish grin was on his face and he looked to fit inside his body for a change. Instead of having awkwardly large limbs and a strange amount of grace.

"Weird dream," he said with a strange look on his face. He shrugged and followed his brother into the field.

"Got your lighter?" Sam asked, leaning down to set up a firework. Dean frowned and reached into his pocket. His fingers made contact with the foreign object and pulled it out. The lighter sat familiarly in his hand and brought back a rush of memories. Without his consent, a smile graced his features and he stared in wonderment.

"Whoa, I haven't seen this thing in years," he mumbled to himself, flicking it on. The little flame dance around the metal and Dean grinned.

"Fire 'em up," Sam said, motioning for him to light the end of his firework. Dean lit Sam's and then his own, watching as they shot off red sparks and the rockets exploded in the air. He watched as Sam's face lit up and laughed. Not chuckled, or snickered. An honest to god _laugh_.

"I remember this! It's Fourth of July, 1996," he said with a wide smile on his face. His green eyes danced in the sparkling light of the still dissipating sparks. The sparks painted the night sky and showered them in red glow, and suddenly Dean just wanted to run. Run, twist, turn, fall, roll, and just laugh. He'd never wanted to do that before.

Sam turned to him and the joy was in his eyes. Sam was happy. Dean lived for those moments, when Sammy was really happy. "Dad would never let us do anything like this. Thanks, Dean. This is great," he said, wrapping his arms around Dean's waist. The elder man froze for a moment, before tentatively returning the gesture.

When Sam pulled away, it took a moment for Dean to control himself. He missed days like this, they never had them anymore. There was only heartbreak and hurt and tragedy. Sam lit all the fireworks and raced back, a breathy laugh escaping him and filling the empty field.

"Fire in the hole!" he shouted, dashing to Dean. The fireworks went off as one, bright explosions in the sky. The entire night lit up in the show of sparks and Sam rushed off to run and dance beneath them. Dean stayed, watching. The joy in his brother was more than enough for him.

Sam stopped and looked at him, acknowledging the moment. Speaking without words and telling each other everything they would ever need to know. Dean nodded back, and jumps at a particularly loud explosion.

_Roy and Walt held the guns, and they fired. Sam fell, then Kat. Dean felt the pain, the burning._

Dean jerked back to reality and shuddered. The fireworks were gone, as was Sam. He looked around himself in the empty field and tried to find him.

"Sam?" he called. No one answered. He wasn't concerned by this, it was only a dream anyway, and went back to lean on his car. The night was cool and pressing in on him, but he felt a strange peace.

"Dean!"

Status of peace: blown to hell.

He jumped violently and leaned through the window. "Cas?"

"Yeah, it's me." The radio dial swung back and forth and the voice was scratchy. Bad reception. Dean got warily back into the car, shifting to get comfortable and looked at the radio with increasing annoyance.

"You gotta stop pokin' around in my dreams," he said. "I need some _me_ time." He could almost feel Castiels' rising annoyance and impatience and couldn't help the small grin that formed on his mouth.

"Listen to me very closely," Cas said through the radio. "This isn't a dream."

Dean looked around as if the answer would be written somewhere in the car. It looked real enough, felt real enough.

"Then what is it?" He asked finally, accepting that it couldn't be a dream.

"Deep down, you already know," Cas said cryptically.

_The blast pushes him back against the headboard, his eyes are half shut. Empty. His face is blank, free from emotion or stress. He's dead._

"I'm dead," he stated, feeling surprisingly little remorse.

"Condolences," Cas said almost sarcastically.

"Where am I?" he asked, sitting up slightly straighter and looking around himself again.

"Heaven."

Dean raised an eyebrow. Standards must be lax up here, because he most certainly did not belong in heaven. "Heaven? How did I get to heaven?"

"Please, listen." Castiel sounded annoyed. "This spell, this connection, it's difficult to maintain."

"Wait. If I'm in heaven, then where's Sam? And Kat?"

"What do you see?"

"What do you mean 'what do I see?" Dean asked with growing impatience. Was it really so hard to answer a question?

"Some people see a tunnel or a river. What do you see?"

"Nothing," Dean sighed, then amended. "My dash. I'm in my car. I'm on a road."

"Alright. A road. For you it's a road. Follow it, Dean. You'll find Sam and Kat." Static broke through the connection and his voice began to fade in and out. "Follow the road," he repeated, before the radio died.

Dean started the car, gripping the steering wheel hard. He pressed the gas down and suddenly there was no moon. No night sky.

It was bright and sunny and odd looking. His life never seemed quite this bright. He slowed the car down as he found himself in a suburban street. A family was sprawled out on their front lawn. He stopped the car.

"Kat?"

He got out of the car and watched in fascination as she rolled down the slight incline of the front lawn with a ten year old girl. A young toddler and a boy were at the top, laughing and pointing. When she reached the bottom, she raced back up, to tackle the boy. The grappled in the grass for a while, until a woman looked up from her painting. Dean thought she was beautiful, no older than thirty.

"Jamie, get off your sister!" she said, her hands on her hips.

"She tackled me!" he answered in between rolls.

"Mark! Tell your son to get off of her!" she switched tactics. A man with dark hair and eyes looked up from a game of Solitaire.

"How is that he's my son when he does something wrong?" he asked. Kat looked up at that moment and saw Dean. She jumped away from Jamie and rushed down the hill.

"Dean! Why are you in my dream?" she asked, her eyes bubbling over with excitement and joy.

"You're not dreaming," he said solemnly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear.

"What are you talking about? Of course I am! Come look! It's my family, Dean," she said, practically jumping up and down. He humored her, not wanting to burst the bubble. "This is my Dad," she said pointing to him. "And my Mom. And Jamie. And Andrea, And this, is little Susie," she said, picking up the little girl. She didn't seem to notice how Jamie was still grappling with air and their parents were still trying to break it up.

"Kat," he whispered. She looked up at him and frowned at the serious look in her eyes. "We're dead."

She was silent for a long time, taking long glances back at her family. "I have to leave them, don't I?" she asked, looking up at him with teary eyes.

"We have to find Sam."

"O-Okay," she whispered. She kissed the little girls forehead twice, and hugged her close to her body. "I'll miss you, baby girl." She put her down and staggered back to Dean. "Let's go."

"We can stay another minute if you-"

"_Let's go!"_ she said, tears threatening to break free and spill over.

He pulled her to him and crushed her in an embrace, before letting her climb into the passengers side. As he pressed down on the gas again, the moon came out and they sky became a strange purple. Kat marveled at the expanse before her, and blinked when they stopped in front of a house that wasn't there a moment before.


	98. Chapter 98

**Hey! I know you guys have been waiting long enough, so here's the next chapter. The one after this will take a while, because I'm currently in the process of editing all the old (terrible) chapter. This is all being done with the wonderful help of CFEditor –waves-. So thank you to her! **

*************To Be Free is now 6 chapters strong, you can find the link on my page (by clicking the author name at the top and going to my stories) or hopefully with these stats. Rated T, Romance/ General over 10,000 words. If you can't find it I'm sorry, I don't know why it's doing that.**

**-Han**

They went quietly inside, and Kat kept a death grip on Dean's arm.

"What?" he asked.

"It's too perfect. It gives me the creeps," she hissed. "At least my family was dysfunctional. This is like a Hallmark card."

Dean chuckled to himself and led her through the entry way. He stopped just outside the dining room and made a face. "Wow. Just wow."

"This is his idea of heaven?" Kat whispered curiously. Dean shrugged, still making the face.

"Dean. Kat. What are you doing in my dream?" Sam asked looking up. He was in a white dress shirt and a blue tie that looked to be cutting off his circulation it was so tight. His hair was groomed to the side, instead of the messy mane and bangs he usually wore.

A pristine family sat around the table, talking as though Sam hadn't spoken. A girl of maybe twelve or thirteen was staring at him with a huge grin on her braced-face, a lusty look in her eyes.

Kat was disturbed.

In response, Dean's disgusted face deepens and looked even more comical.

"So what does your father do for a living?" the man at the Thanksgiving table asked, as though Sam could give an answer. It was quiet and then, "Is that so?"

"Heaven?" Sam asked, his eyebrows furrowed and his look incredulous.

"Yup," Dean responded, still eyeing the family warily. Kat lounged on a too-firm couch and tried not to be creeped out by the multiple family portraits on the walls.

"Okay, how are we in heaven?"

"All the clean living, I guess," Dean said sarcastically. He didn't think he deserved to be there, that much was obvious.

Sam shook his head sharply and his bags fell into his eyes. "No, no. You and Kat, I get…sure. But me? If you haven't noticed, I've done a few things?" he asked looking both ashamed and insistent. Kat tilted her head to the side, did he suddenly forget how much he'd sacrificed? That had to be taken in to account at some point.

"You thought you were doing the right thing," Dena said with a wave of his hand. Sam hadn't been the one to tear those people apart in hell. Sam was the one who deserved this, he always deserved the best. Dean…Dean deserved to be kicked to the side of the road and forgotten.

"Last I checked, it wasn't the road to heaven that was paved with good intentions," Sam bit back, his shoulders slumping.

"Yeah, well, if this is the Skymall, it sucks. I mean, where's the triplets and the latex? C'mon, a guy has needs," Dean said changing the subject. Kat mad a face and turned away slightly.

What Dean wanted to say was, 'why didn't I wake up next to Kat? Why can't I get a dream of her?'

Sam was looking at the family, still eating as though he was there. There was an unreadable look in his eyes and Kat was watching him. She could see the moment when it clicked for him, as if everything fell into place.

"You know, they say when you bite the dust your life flashes before your eyes," he said, never taking his eyes from the family.

"Your point?" Dean asked. Kat looked up, seeing where Sam was going.

"This house, it's one of my memories," he explained.

"When Dean found me, I was reliving an afternoon with my family," Kat added, feeling as though she'd been out of the conversation too long. She wondered for a moment, why she'd woken up with Dean, but dismissed it quickly.

"When I woke up, it was the Fourth of July we burned down that field," Dean said, a reminiscent look in his eyes. Kat smiled, caught for a moment by the sparkling in his green eyes.

"Maybe that's what heaven is: a place where you relive your greatest hits," Sam said, shrugging.

"Wait so…playing footsie with brace-face in there? That's one of your trophy moments?" Dean asked, an eyebrow raised. Kat giggled to herself, ignoring Sam's glare.

"Dean, I was eleven years old. This was my first real Thanksgiving."

"What are you talking about? We had Thanksgiving every year," Dean said, looking at him as if he were insane. Kat's giggles stopped abruptly, feeling as though she were intruding on a family moment. She stood up and slipped unseen down the hall. She was still trying to get over the shock of seeing her baby sister.

She felt horrible for not acknowledging the other members of her family, but Susie was the most painful of all the losses. She was so small and fragile. And Kat wasn't able to do anything. She still remembered the pleading, the screams. And she hadn't been able to answer.

She shook herself violently and walked unsteadily back to the living room. It looked as though neither man had noticed her absence, not that she was surprised. The second she sat down, the walls around her and the very Earth seemed to quake. A rising rumble from outside made her head snap to the window.

The lights cut off and the room was plunged into semi-darkness. The moment her eyes adjusted she realized that Sam and Dean had said something and were now taking cover. She jumped quickly over the couch and took Dean's hand in hers. Glass shattered around them and she had to bite her lip to keep in the scream that was rising in her throat.

A white light, like a searchlight, shot through the broken window and seemed to scan the room. Kat looked at it with a quizzical look on her face. She doubted this was part of Sam's memory.

Dean yanked her down lower as the light passed over their hiding spot. Dean's breathing was shallow and ragged, and Kat held a hand firmly over her mouth to keep from breathing too loudly. Then, the light moved past them and the lights in the room came back on with a flicker.

Kat sat up straight, her mind strangely blank. It had been on auto pilot since she left Susie. She wanted to go back. She could deal with being dead if she got to see her baby sister. She turned and quirked a brow as Dean fiddled with the radio with a determined look on his face.

"Okay, what the hell was that?" Sam asked, following Dean as he fiddled with the knobs.

"I don't know. But we're takin' the escalator back downstairs," he grunted. He hissed in annoyance and hit the radio. "Cas!"

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, looking concerned for his brothers' sanity.

"What does it look like?" Dean said sarcastically.

"Like you've lost your mind," Kat said, walking slowly towards them.. Dean looked at her with exasperation and sighed loudly.

"Cas talked to me before using this phone home radio thing so I-Cas!" he cut himself off, shouting with frustration.

"I can hear you, Dean," Castiel's voice broke through her thoughts and she turned around expecting to see him standing there. Instead she jumped back slightly at the sight of Cas's face flickering on the Tv.

"Cas, you have bad reception," Kat said seriously, coming to stand beside Dean.

"Can you take this seriously for one second?" Dean asked, looking down at her.

"I'm dead, Dean. Nothing is serious," She said with a shrug. He gave her a sad look, one that apologized for not caring quite as much as he did about Sam. She waved her hand dismissively, telling him not to worry about it. Instead, he took the second to wrap an arm around her shoulders and press a soft kiss to her temple. She smiled and accepted the gesture.

"Cas, I found them. But something happened, there was this weird beam of light-" Dean started to explain.

"Don't go into the light," Cas said forcefully. Kat blinked, taken aback by his vigor.

"Okay. Thanks, Carol Ann," Dean said sarcastically. The reference was lost on Kat, but she still smiled a little. "What is it?" he asked, getting back to business.

"Not what: whom." There was a pause and the three of them seemed to hold their breath. "It's Zachariah, and he's searching for you."


	99. Chapter 99

**I apologize for my writers block, I feel like I'm failing you guys. I'm working on it, honestly. The edits are coming along, all things considered, and I'm hoping to have a revised ch. 1 up within the week. I hope all y'all are safe during this storm, and I hope you guys like the chapter.**

** Writers block needs reviews to heal it, incase you didn't know. So review and I'll write more. **

**-Han**

"Well, what happens if he finds us?" Kat asked, her head tilting towards the screen with interest. She reached out, as if to adjust the volume, and pulled back when her hand was slapped lightly by Dean.

"He'll send Sam and Dean back to Earth. You will most likely be destroyed," Cas said with sad eyes.

"Okay, I'll just hang out up here then," Kat said with a shrug. "And Sam and Dean can go back."

"What?" Dean asked, his face scrunching slightly.

"Being dead ain't all that bad," she said, shrugging.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Dean asked, glaring at her. She blinked and stepped away from him slightly.

"Calm down. If I can find a way back then I'll go. But if I can't I don't want you guys to worry about me," she said quietly. Not that she thought they'd spend more than a day or so freaking out about it. They would mourn her, she was sure, but they'd get over it quickly.

"We're not leaving you," Dean growled low in his throat. She inched towards Sam, who was watching her with almost hurt eyes.

"Did you really think we would leave you behind?" he asked in his kicked-puppy voice.

Kat didn't say anything. She turned back to Cas, her face hard and her eyes determined.

"What do we need to do?" she asked, ready for anything. Dean gave her a proud nod and waited for Cas's answer.

"You're behind the Wall. You have…a rare opportunity."

"For what?" Dean asked.

"You need to find an angel. His name is Joshua."

"Um, no offense man, but we are kinda ass full of angels right now. You find him," Dean said, crossing his arms. Kat sighed and frowned at him.

"Would he send me back?" she asked.

"Possibly. And, I can't. I can't return to heaven," Cas said sadly. Kat punched Dean softly on the arm, upset that he brought it up. Castiel clearly wished to return to heaven. And she couldn't blame him. Part of her felt drawn to this place, like she belonged here.

"So what's so important about Joshua?" Sam asked, looking intently at the flickering screen.

"The rumor is; he talks to God," Castiel said, his image zooming in and out. Kat gasped, feeling guilt level on her shoulders. She's promised not to say anything. She promised. But the desperation in Cas's eyes made her want to say everything.

"And…so?" Dean asked, not seeing why God was all that important. They'd done fine without him so far.

Well…they'd gotten by. Sort of.

"Don't you think maybe- just maybe- we should find out what the hell God has been saying?" Cas growled, his eyes narrowing and his voice coming out gravely and harsh. Kat let her eyes drop, the guilt pooling like weight in her stomach.

"Jeez, touchy," Dean said, leaning back slightly. Kat smothered her giggle and tried to focus.

"Please, just follow the road," Cas said, his patience obviously wearing thin.

"What road?" Sam asked, looking around curiously.

"It's called the Axis Mundi. It's a path that runs through heaven. Different people see it as different things. For you, it's two-lane asphalt. The road will lead you to the Garden. You'll find Joshua there. And Joshua… can take us to God." The picture on the screen became full of static, and Cas's image began to zoom in and out rapidly, the snow on the screen taking over his face. "The Garden. Quick. Hurry." The TV went black.

Sam took a deep lingering breath, and turned to Dean. Kat turned her head to gaze around the room. She smiled softly at the sight of a DVD on a shelf.

"So, what d'you think?" Sam asked, his eyes never leaving his brother. Dean sighed, he'd been going over it in his thoughts since Cas mentioned it. As much as he hated to admit it, they needed God to win this thing.

"I think we hit the yellow bricks; find this Joshua cat," Dean said, turning his green eyes to Kat, who was now approaching the DVD.

"Really?" Sam asked, sounding surprised. Kat wasn't. She remembered that night after Famine, and the look in Dean's eyes. She knew he'd prayed, or tried to. She knew it hadn't worked.

"What? You don't?" Dean asked, looking intently at his brother.

"No, uh. I'm just surprised you do. Last I checked you wanted to break God's nose. Now you think he can help?" Sam asked. Kat snorted; just the idea of Dean breaking Chuck's nose was beyond comical.

"He's the only one that can," Dean said after a long moment of silence. "I mean, come one, Sam. We're royally boned. So prayer? Last hope of a desperate man," Dean said, looking uncomfortable. In an instant Kat was by his side, laying gentle fingers across his cheek. He smiled half-heartedly at her and led the way to the porch.

Kat gasped sharply at the sight of evergreen forest before them. She blinked slowly and looked at the gaping brothers.

"Wasn't there a street out here?" Sam asked.

"There was," Dean responded.

They walked back inside, no one sure what they were looking for. Dean started rifling through the family's belongings and Kat ambled back towards the DVD case.

"Hey, guys?" she asked, feeling slightly self conscious about her find. Sam and Dean were there a moment later, looking at her inquiringly. She pointed to a case and the three of them tilted their heads to read.

"_The Road to El Dorado," _they said together. Dean shrugged, buying it while Sam just looked at her incredulously.

"That's the road?" he asked.

"It's _a_ road," Kat responded, reaching out to brush her fingertips over it. She inhaled sharply as their surroundings changed.

"What are you wearing?" Dean asked, looking at her in confusions.

Kat was covered in gauze, but did not feel the wounds she should have carried. She wore an older woman's poka-dot dress that was at least three sizes too big, and a pair of men's boots, that slipped around on her feet. Her hair was held back in sloppy bun and her hands held a small stack of children's DVD's. The top being the Road to El Dorado.

She looked around herself, seeing the familiar Salvage Yard and Bobby's old car. The man himself stood just in front of the doorway, looking much younger and very solemn. Jamie stood beside him, looking healthy in comparisons to how underfed she knew she looked to them. John was next to her and the boys, leading the way to the steps.

"I'm just out of the hospital," Kat whispered.

"This is one of your happiest memories?" Sam asked incredulously as she stumbled forward.

John caught her arm and the boys gaped at him. There was a soft uncertainty in his movements, and he was clearly trying not to notice how Kat flinched from him. Bobby was down the stairs and in front of her in a moment and she smiled, remembering how fast he could move.

"Calm down, now. We're not gonna hurt you," he said softly, helping her stand. Kat met the mans eyes and a gave a shaky smile. "Jamie said we could call you Kathy?" he asked slowly.

"Kat. J-just Kat," she whispered. Bobby nodded seriously and steadied her as she walked. Dean and Sam moved to stay next to her.

"Dad?" they asked as one.

"Sorry, not…not your memory," Kat whispered. She clung to Bobby's hand, struggling to keep the DVD's in her hands. "Mr. Singer?"

"Bobby," he corrected.

"Bobby, Jamie said we could watch these. What-what are they, exactly?" she asked, her head tilting to the side.

"Movies. I'll show ya inside," he said calmly. "Hospital didn't have a DVD player; I went out and bought one. John picked up those on the way to pick you up. You should like 'em," he said.

"I-Inside?" she asked.

Bobby turned and looked at her evenly. "No one's gonna hurt you here. You're safe, Kat. You're home now," he said in one of his rare moments of tenderness. Kat could feel the tears behind her eyes and nodded shakily.

"Home," she repeated, as if testing out the word.

Dean had never seen something so heartbreakingly beautiful. Her eyes were glistening and her hands shook. Her steps were hesitant, careful. It astonished him how easily she fell into the memory, how easily she reverted to a scared teenage girl.

Suddenly her eyes were on him and she gave a smile; one that lit up her bright blue eyes and made him think of sunny days and starry nights. The gauze covering her arms and legs was cumbersome to movement, but she stumbled along anyway, looking for all the world like a toddler learning to walk. She smiled at Bobby and pushed him ahead of her, while she looked over the place she would now call home.

"Kat?" Dean asked tentatively. He didn't want to make her part from this, when she clearly loved it. She turned to him, her hair falling from its loose bun and falling around her face. She gave a sad smile and went to him, linked her fingers with his.

"Let's go," she said softly. He raised their linked hands to his face and pressed her fingers softly to his lips. He grinned when a blush rose to her cheeks and he led the way back through the piles of cars. Sam followed, his eyes still on his father, who was saying something softly to the space Kat should've been. For a moment he could've sworn he saw a teenage girl there, translucent as air, her shoulders hunched and every movement speaking of pain.

Sam could've sworn he saw a pale girl with broken eyes and gauze over every wound. He could've sworn she was speaking, too-pale lips forming soft-spoken words. He could've sworn he saw her glace at him fearfully, scared of another person, the blue of her eyes reflecting years of pain and fear.

But when he blinked, the image was gone.


	100. Chapter 100

**CHAPTER 100!**

**I know it's been forever and I'm horrible, but school's made it hard for me to upload. by this Sunday, I WILL have posted from Dark side of the moon to the next cannon im doing which is point of no return.**

**Okay, its realization time, baby! Read on, and let me hear your thoughts. **

**ALSO! The edits of chapters one and two of THIS STORY are up NOW! and I suggest reading them because some stuff has been changed to work with the stronger plot I have going now and to make it smoother and less crappy. Thanks so much for reading!**

**-Han**

Dean stopped suddenly, his eyes trained on a mini-race track in the middle of the dusty path they were on. He crouched down and smiled fondly at a toy race track.

"Why is that in the middle of the lot?" Kat asked, looking around as if a sign would tell her exactly why.

"We're dead, I don't think it matters if it makes sense," Sam said logically. Kat shrugged and looked thoughtful.

"Cas _is _on TV now," Kat agreed, bending down next to Dean. He hadn't spoken yet, but was watching the Hot Wheels set with a reminiscent look in his eyes. Kat's eyes softened as he picked up a blue car.

"I used to have one of these…when I was a kid," Dean whispered. Kat knew that meant before his mother had died. After that he wasn't a kid, he was a warrior. She found it hard to imagine a time when Dean was anything less than what he was, a hunter. It made her brow furrow and her heart sad.

Dean used to be innocent. Ignorant to what went bump in the night and just a child. She knew the pain he must've felt when he was thrown into the world, no seat belts, no landing pad.

Dean put the car on the track and made it go round and round.

When Kat blinked, they were somewhere else. A beautiful house, things scattered just enough to make it homey, and toys littering the ground. She turned questioningly to Dean, and had to cover her mouth to hold back her giggle.

He was in jeans and a flannel button down, sneakers, one lace dragging on the ground, and a T-shirt that read, 'I Wuv Hugs.'

It was perhaps the cutest thing she'd ever seen.

"Trippy, huh?" Dean asked, looking around his surroundings.

"Yeah. More trippy. Apparently, you 'wuv hugs'," Kat said, looking pointedly at the shirt. A blush rose to his cheeks and he covered the shirt with the outer flannel one.

"Shut up," he said, his voice unthreatening and comically sour. Sam and Kat laughed, feeling lighter and freer. She knew it would just make it all the harder for her to go back.

Part of her didn't want to leave. The part with wings. It told her she belonged here, and it told her that she would be safe here.

It was harder than she thought to suppress the feeling.

"Wait a minute. I know where we are," Dean said, his voice suddenly hopeful. The timbre was barren of it's usual roughness; stripped away until only the fragile form remained.

"Where?" Sam asked, looking around as if he would remember.

"We're home," Dean said, brokenly and lovingly.

Kat's eyes were huge, taking in every possible detail of the room around her. This was where Dean was born. Where he was lived and where a part of him died. This was the place he was reborn, into a fighter. This was where his father became a drill-sergeant and his mother became a memory.

"Dean?" A soft, melodic voice called. Kat's head turned along with the other two and she felt her heart break all the more for the sight in front of her.

A beautiful woman, blonde with green eyes and a sweet face, standing before them. She wore a white dress, her hair falling around her shoulders. Kat smiled a heartbreaking kind of smile and nudged Dean forward. He stumbled, but allowed himself to face his mother.

Mary Winchester grinned at Dean, obviously seeing a little boy.

"Hey, Dean. Are you hungry?" She asked, that sweet voice almost bringing Dean to tears. He missed her more than he could ever admit.

He allowed her to lead him to a dining room table, leaving Sam and Kat to trail behind. Kat was no longer looking at Mary, like the boys. Now she was looking at Dean. All the love and sadness in his eyes mad her feel like crying. The raw adoration made her breath shorten and she realized what she was feeling when she looked at him.

She wanted him to look at her like that.

She came crashing back to reality as she shook herself from the realization. She returned to watching Dean, as his beautiful mother poured him milk.

He smiled at Mary, all his perfect teeth showing. It was dazzling, and Kat had to blink to clear her head. The onslaught of feeling in her body made it hard to think straight. She didn't know what she wanted. She was too confused.

Or, she told herself that.

"Do you want the crusts cut off?" She asked, indicating the PB&J with another sweet smile.

"Yeah, I'd love that," Dean said softly the smile refusing to leave his face. Sam leaned forward, his face almost frightened and hopeful at the same time.

"Mom?" He asked tentatively. Mary didn't respond, only smiled at Dean when he looked back and forth between the two.

"I guess it's not your memory, Sam. Sorry," He said, sounding too awed and happy to be sorry. Kat didn't blame him. He seemed so enraptured by his mother, she doubted he could be pulled away.

She'd never seen him so vulnerable either, so soft. At least, she didn't think she had.

"Dean, um. We should…go. Keep looking for the road," Sam said, trying to catch his brothers attention.

"Just…just give me a minute," Dean almost begged. His eyes were so pleading and soft. Kat almost couldn't stand to look at them. She smiled softly to him, giving her clear vote. Sam nodded reluctantly and shifted back in his seat.

A phone rang somewhere in the kitchen and Mary answered it. As she heard the voice on the other end, her smile drooped.

"Hello? … No, John. … We're not having this conversation again. … Think about what? … You've two boys at home. …" She said, sounding sad and frustrated. Kat turned to Dean as he began to speak.

"I remember this. Mom and Dad were fighting and then he moved out for a couple days," he said looking sad at the memory. Kat couldn't understand why they would fight. What did they have to fight about? They were safe, together, and they had Dean.

Kat couldn't find a reason.

"Dad always said they had the perfect marriage," Sam said in confusion.

"It wasn't perfect until after she died," Dean said solemly. Kat caught his eye and gave him a sad sort of smile. She could never sympathize, since she didn't really know her parents. She had no idea if they had marital problems, or even what they did for work. All she knew was that she loved little Susie and fought with Jamie a lot.

She wished she could tell him something that would make it better, but she didn't know what.

"Fine. Then don't….There's nothing more to talk about!" she said finally, hanging up the phone violently. Even from her seat in the dining room, Kat could tell she was fighting back tears. A sniff confirmed her thoughts. She looked at Dean slowly.

"What happens now?" she whispered so softly.

Instead of answering, Dean stood up, his face drawn in sadness. He approached his mother and hugged her to her body. Kat could almost see the boy doing it, hugging his mother around the waist. The grown man in the boy's place was so sad. Kat thought he carried the weight of the world.

His shoulders were hunched and his face contorted to hold back some raw emotion he did not want the onlookers to see. He cradled his mother to him like she was the most precious thing in the world.

"It's okay, Mom. Dad still loves you. I love you, too. I'll never leave you," he whispered against her. Kat choked back the sudden onslaught of emotion rushing through her body. Her lips trembled and her body felt weak.

She'd never seen another Dean so fragile before her. So broken. Her fingers shook and her knees felt as though they would collapse. She felt herself shudder and knew she was close to breaking, and letting the tears flow freely. Sam must've seen her, because he wrapped a loose arm around her shoulders.

Without a second thought she buried her face into his chest.

She wanted to be talked to like that. She wanted someone to love her that much. Dean? She couldn't imagine it being anybody else. She honestly couldn't. She paused when she realized she wanted him.

Not just the body she'd noticed when they met. She wanted the heart and soul and the endless eyes and the rough-gentle touches. She wanted whispered words and joking smiles. She wanted the love he showed his mother, vulnerable and sweet. She wanted passion and fire and she wanted…

She wanted love.

She knew Sam had felt her stiffen, but she didn't care. She'd never broached the topic of love seriously. She thought she would never have it. She thought she would never even _want_ it.

But now Dean was in front of her and all she could think about what him. His eyes, his voice, his heart, his soul. She was trapped in thoughts of him, and she liked it. Each breath she took was stolen by him and she was anticipating it, now.

Her entire body seized up as she looked deep to decipher her own feelings. She knew the truth.

She loved Dean Winchester.


	101. Chapter 101

**Buenos dias bitches! (yes that line is coming up soon. ****J**** ) Any way, I'm uploading at least two chapters today. I'm still working on edits and I have a script for my class due tomorrow, but I promise to get out as many as I can. Thanks guys! Review please ****J**

**-Han **

By the time she came back to reality, Dean had already walked away from Mary, sadness in his eyes. He spotted her in Sam's arms and his gaze darkened slightly, but he hid it before either of them could see.

Sam looked at him as if in some form of realization and Dean grew quickly annoyed.

"What?" he asked, trying not to let the emotions in his body break through.

"I just never realized how long you've been cleaning up Dad's messes," Sam said, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. Before Dean could formulate a response that would undoubtedly prove to Sam that it wasn't just something he did for charity, Kat flew at him.

Her arms caught him around the waist and gripped him tight, and her head buried into his chest. He hadn't even had time to look at her face before she was on him.

"Don't be that sad ever ever again," she whispered, so only he could hear.

"I'm not sad," he lied, his voice just as soft. He knew Sam must be wondering what they were saying, but he didn't care.

"Yes you are. Don't be sad, Dean. She's probably reliving memories of you, right now," she said feverishly, as though she had to get the words out as quickly as possible.

"How are you so sure?" he asked, feeling small and young.

"Because that's what I would be doing," she said so softly he had to lean in to hear her.

It was silent a moment, and then Dean pulled away. The warmth fled his body, but he couldn't afford to be pulled under by the crushing depth that was his emotion towards her. He knew he could be easily distracted by his love for her, but they had a job to do.

"Let's go," he said softly, trying not to notice the slight hurt that shown through her eyes. She moved away from him, though, and helped the two boys to search through the belongings.

She was growing frustrated, and was about to lash out, when Sam made a noise of recognition. She turned around to see him holding a post card with Route 66 written across it. Kat tilted her head curiously as Sam inspected it.

"I know this from somewhere," he whispered.

"Where?" Dean asked. Before Sam could answer, their surroundings had changed, dissolved and replaced. They were now in post-card covered room, a motel room maybe. Dean now wore his original clothes, with a canvas jacket replacing the leather one. Sam's clothes were slightly changed and Kat was in the same Batman shirt and jeans from that morning.

Kat looked around the room with interest, eyeing everything around her. It reminded her strongly of Ash's office. The thought of it sent a pang through her heart as she studied the room. Trash, Coke cans, chip bags, and pizza boxes littered the whole area. One wall was covered in postcards, and she saw the Route 66 one as well. There was an old couch against one wall, and the carpet carried a few questionable stains.

"Where are we?" Dean asked, looking around the room.

"No way," Sam said in joy. Kat was about to open her mouth, when a large golden retriever appeared and rushed into the room, straight at Sam. An elated smile crossed her face as the large dog licked Sam's face. "Bones! Hey! C'mere, c'mere!" he said excitedly. The dog turned its huge eyes to the others and barked happily.

When Sam let him go to look around the room, Kat bent to his level, rubbing his head affectionately. "You're so cute!" she cooed, scratching behind its ears. Dean rolled his eyes at her and faced Sam.

"Bones?" he asked incredulously. Sam shrugged, taking a piece of pizza out of a box.

"Yeah. Bones was my dog," he said, sitting on the worn and tattered couch. Kat smiled up into Dean's eyes, still petting the dog. Dean's eyes became confused and wary.

"Your… your dog?" he asked, eyeing it like it was a mutant creature. Kat joined Sam on the sofa, her legs crossed and her fingers threading through the thick gold hair of the retriever.

"Yeah," Sam said, offering some of the pizza to Kat. She shook her head, absently wondering how old it was, before looking back at Dean. She paused, her smile freezing at the sight of his drawn face. He doesn't look happy.

The thumping of Bone's tail did not distract her, as she watched Dean look slowly around the room, taking it all in. Realization dawned on his face, and Kat could see the deeply embedded hurt in his green eyes.

. "Is this Flagstaff?" he asked and Kat wondered what the significance of the town was. She'd been there before, sometime near Easter. Nothing was open but a Chinese Buffett, and she'd insisted on leaving the next day. Blake had tried to persuade her, but there was really nothing there she found interesting.

Sam smiled and looked at Bones affectionately. "Yeah," he said, rubbing his hand over the happy dog. "Hey, boy," he said softly.

Kat looked back to Dean, who was watching his younger brother with something like disappointment.

"This is a good memory for you?" he asked suddenly, looking back at a still smiling Sam. The younger man laughed lightly, feeding the dog some of his pizza. Kat looked carefully at Dean, feeling as though her mouth was glued shut. She felt like an invader in a private moment.

"Yeah. I mean, I was on my own for two weeks. I lived on Funyuns and Mr. Pibb," Sam said, looking almost proud. Kat scrunched up her nose, the combination did not sound appealing to her. Apparently it didn't to Dean either, because he looked distinctly unimpressed

"Wow," he said, looking around the room disdainfully. Kat moved further back into the couch, not wanting to intrude.

"What?" Sam asked, looking honestly confused. Kat tilted her head, her mind attempting to understand why Dean would be upset. His next words left her reeling.

" Well, you don't remember, do you? You ran away on my watch. I looked everywhere for you. I thought you were dead. And when Dad came home…" he trailed off and Kat looked at him imploringly. She knew how terrible John could be, but he'd never been too bad on her. She prayed it hadn't been as bad as she was guessing now.

Sam gave a look ridden with guilt, his hazel eyes sad and pleading. Kat could see Dean's eyes fade to hurt, and the bright green dim with pain, before he turned away from them. Kat pet the dog softly, her eyes never leaving Dean.

"Dean, look, I'm sorry. I never thought about it like that," Sam said, looking sad and hopeful for forgiveness. He didn't look like he regretted it though. Kat could tell he was happy here, no matter how guilty he was over what his brother went through.

"Forget it. Let's roll," Dean said stiffly. Kat stood quickly, giving the dog a last pet, and followed him out into the mid-morning light.

XX

Where they had walked into day, now it was night. Trees lined both sides of the road, and an old possibly abandoned house sat in on one side. A ram-shackled wrap-around porch was the most distinguishing factor of the building.

Kat spun in a circle slowly in the center of the road, trying to figure out whose memory it was. She didn't think it was one of hers. It didn't look familiar. She looked questioningly to Dean, who was watching Sam. Realization flickered across the younger man's features for a moment, before it was quickly replaced by a blank look.

"What memory is this?" Dean asked carefully, as if afraid of the answer. Kat sighed, sensing another moment she shouldn't hear. She turned her back on the boys, walking slowly down the asphalt, her shoulders hunched inward against the cold of the night.

"This is the night you ditched us for Stanford, isn't it?" she heard Dean say it, and inwardly flinched at the pain in his voice. She didn't want him to be in pain. Her arms folded across her chest and she wondered absently if they knew she wasn't there anymore. She wasn't upset by the prospect. They were the infallible brothers, the other always came first. She could never assume to be more important to Dean than Sam was. Sam always came first.

And that didn't really bother her all that much. She thought she would be content to know she had even a piece of Dean. A piece would be enough for her. But her head was still shaking slightly, and she thought a piece of her broke at the next words that were carried to her.

"It's supposed to be you and me against the world, right?" Dean asked, and the words were painful to hear. Her eyes scrunched up and she bit her lip. She kept walking, the heels of her combat boots clicking on the concrete. Her hair had long since fallen from the pony-tail it had been in when she died, and was now floating around her face freely.

She paused a moment, at the feel of being watched. She half-turned to the way she came to see Dean and Sam rushing towards her.

"Go! Go, Kat!" Dean shouted, stealing a glance at the ominous white light behind them. She turned and sprinted towards the trees, not bothering to see who was behind her. She tore through thick vegetation and dead leaves, her heart pumping furiously in her chest. She knew if the boys were caught they would simply wake up, she would be destroyed.

Her leg caught a root and she fell into the piles of leaves, her breathing ragged and weak. She gasped suddenly, as the world around her melted away and the coarse vegetation beneath her was replaced by rough cotton sheets.

Her eyes fluttered as she wriggled slightly, in the warm cocoon she had been sent to. She looked down and found herself in only a white tank top and a pair of girl-boxers. She rolled to her side and faintly recognized the motel she was in as one they'd all stayed in.

She blinked and looked next to her, seeing the cocoon as Dean's arms. She smiled softly at him, and realized this was one of the first times she'd woken up to him holding her. Her slim fingers reached up and began tracing the planes of his face with acute familiarity. She knew every curve and freckle, but he never ceased to amaze her.

She could remember how in those first few weeks, she would remember her time with Alistair so clearly. But eventually, Dean's arms around her and his steady breathing would push them away. His skin was warm, but she liked it. The heat didn't make her think of the warehouse or the pain or the fear. It made her think of happiness and safety.

She smiled, her eyes lighting up at the prospect. Dean was safe. Dean was good. She wondered why it took her so long to realize she loved him, but was really just glad she'd figured it out at all.

She watched his lips twitch up into a smile and knew that he would wake up soon, in the memory, and they would look at each other for a moment, and he would make a joke and they would drag themselves back into the real world. But until then, they were at peace.

"Well, now I see why you wouldn't gimme a kiss," a familiar Southern drawl greeted her.


	102. Chapter 102

**One of my favorite scenes from the whole series. No lie. Ash = GOD (well, a god since chuck is God god.) nevermind. Please review!**

**-Han**

Kat shot up, her hair curling around her shocked face and her wide eyes. Ash stood before her, in a Mexican Wrestler costume, the mask hanging from his fingers, a sloppy grin on his face.

She was out of the bed before she could think, her arms around the Skynyrd Rodie and her head buried into his neck. He did the same, and smiled into her hair.

"Missed you," she mumbled her voice almost lost in the flannel she was pressed against.

"C'mon, the boys are probably worried," he said gruffly, taking her hand and opening the door to the motel. She sent one last look at the now grinning Dean, whose eyes were opening to a woman who wasn't here.

They stepped into the Roadhouse, or a replica at least. She smiled as she saw Dean and Sam leaning against the bar, looking around curiously.

"Buenos dias, bitches," Ash greeted them, tossing his mask onto the pool table.

"Ash?" Dean asked in shock. Ash smiled and clapped his hands twice, illuminating the Roadhouse. Kat smiled brightly, looking around the familiar place.

"Welcome to my blue heaven!" he proclaimed with his arms held wide.

"Good God, it even smells the same," Dean said almost reverently. None of them had been back since they'd gone to pick up Kat after the fight. Nostalgia flooded through her, and she smiled around the bar, taking it all in. She'd been afraid to go back, now that Ash was gone. She didn't want to see it without him next to her.

"Bud, blood, and beer nuts. Smell of the world," Ash said, breathing deeply. He jumped over the bar easily and Kat giggled slightly. He snapped his fingers and grinned. "Hey! How bout a cold one? Up here? No hangover," he said with a smirk.

The three of them sat on bar stools, still looking around the familiar haunt.

"So…no offense…" Sam started, still watching Ash with disbelief.

"How'd a dirt bag like me end up in a place like this?" Ash finished for him. Sam nodded hesitantly and Ash shrugged. "I've been saved, man. I was my congregation's number one snake handler," he said with pride.

"You never told me that," Kat said, her eyebrows raising.

"And you never told me about _that,_" he said, his head tilting to the way they came. A flush of color found its way to her cheeks and she ducked her head.

"It's not like that, I swear," she said, her eyes flitting between Ash and Dean. The latter had tilted his head in curiosity.

"Sure it's not," Ash said with a smile.

"Hey, where'd you go after we lost you in the woods?" Dean asked, leaning forward slightly.

"Well she was-"

Kat slapped a hand over Ash's mouth and sent him a glare.

"Nowhere in particular," she said evenly. Sam and Dean exchanged looks and she could feel Ash's smirk from under her hand. "You said this was your heaven?" she asked, switching gears and sitting back.

"Yup!" he said with a smile. "My own…personal…" he shot gunned his beer while the three of them watched.

"So what there are two heavens?" Dean asked still looking curiously at Kat.

"More like a hundred billion," Ash said evenly. "So don't worry. It'll take the angel boys a while to catch up."

"What?" Sam asked, confusion evident on his face.

Ash sighed and opened his hands, the drunken gestures ready to roll. "See, you gotta stop thinkin' of heaven as just one place. It's more like a butt-load of places all crammed together. Like Disneyland without all the anti-Semitism," he said. Kat barked a laugh that almost knocked her off her barstool, her fingers clutching at the stitches in her sides. Ash was smiling triumphantly while Dean looked doubtful.

"Disneyland?" he repeated skeptically.

"Mm-hmm. Yeah. See you got Winchesterland. Katland," he held out his hands to indicate the bar "Ashland." He pointed to outside the bar. "A whole mess of everybody-else-lands. Put them all together: heaven. Right? At the centre of it all? Is the Magic Kingdom. The Garden."

Kat was honestly surprised she followed all of that, and thought his explanation actually worked in some twisted way.

"So everybody gets a little slice of paradise," Dean reasoned.

"Pretty much. Some people share—special cases. What not."

Kat paused, thinking back. She'd woken up next to Dean. They were a 'special case'? She looked up at Ash. "What do you mean 'special'?" she asked finally.

"Aw, you know. Like uh, soul-mates," Ash said looking between the three of them.

Kat gulped, and wondered if she should tell them how she woke up in heaven. Next to Dean in one of his memories. Did that mean-

She cut herself off before she could get carried away. It wasn't safe to think like that. It wasn't safe to assume he felt the same way. It wasn't safe to assume they could actually be meant for each other.

She sent her panicked eyes to Ash, pleading for him to change the subject. He sent her a slight nod. "Anyway. Most people can't leave their own private Idaho's."

"But you ain't most people," Dean said with a grin. Kat was caught up for a moment, in how his Southern drawl could creep out at the most random times. Usually you couldn't hear it, it was too buried by his gruff tones and determined words. But sometimes, you could hear the Kansas roots.

"Nope. They ain't got my skills. Hell, I've been all over. Johnny Cash. André the Giant. " He turned to Sam with a smile. "Einstein. Sam, that man can mix a White Russian. Hell, the other day? I found Mallanāga Vātsyāyana." He said proudly.

"Who?" Sam asked, looking interested.

"He wrote the Kama Sutra. Huh, that boy's heaven? Ah, sweaty. Confusing." He said with a slight shiver. Kat giggled and shook her head.

"All this from a guy who used to sleep on a pool table," Dean said, a slight smile on his face.

"Yeah. Now that I'm dead…I'm living man. A whole lot more," Ash said with a smile.

"How'd you find us?" Dean asked, as Kat gave Ash a sad sort of smile.

"I rigged up my very own," he grunted and pulled a laptop out from under the bar. "holy-rolling police scanner." He hit the power and started it up. The screen whirred to life, displaying a mess of graphs and sound frequencies. Dean and Sam flinched away from the sound it emitted, but Kat leaned closer. If she listened hard enough, she could hear words clearly behind the piercing noise. "That's angels. Blabbing Enochian, okay? I'm fluent." He turned it off and slid it under the counter again. "I heard that you were up. Of course I had to come find you. Again."

"Again?" Dean asked, surprised. Ash sighed and looked at the boys.

"This ain't the first time y'all been here. You boys die more than anyone I've ever met," he said seriously. Kat stifled a chuckle at their shocked looks.

"Really?" Dean asked, looking even more surprised than before.

"Ah, yeah… you don't remember. God! Angels. Must've Windexed your brains," Ash muttered to himself.

"So, have you…um…found anyone else? Ellen? Jo?" Sam asked hopefully.

"Found Ellen and Jo on the flip side. Angels found out I visited. Got 'em on lockdown now," Ash said sadly.

"How bout our folks?" Dean asked looking up from a silent moment of mourning.

"I've been looking all over for John Winchester, Mary too, but so far: nada. I'm sorry. But hey! There is somebody that wants to jaw with you. Hold up," he said, before scurrying out of the bar. Kat sat silently, staring at the bar and lost in her thoughts.

"So where did you go?" Dean asked again in the silence. She sent him a small smile.

"Just…a more recent memory than I would've thought," she said softly. Sam and Dean shared a curios look, but didn't have time to comment. The door to the bar opened again, and Ash returned with a pretty brunette under his arm. She was dressed similarly to Kat, with low-rider jeans and a black wife-beater. Her hair was curly and her skin was tan.

"Pamela!" Sam shouted in greeting. Both boys looked pleasantly surprised and Kat was just curious. She found it rare to encounter a woman with her sense of style. She gave a half-smile in greeting and watched as she approached the boys.

"Hey boys. Nice to see you again."


	103. Chapter 103

**WHOO! I feel like I got my groove back! It's a good feeling, you guys should try it! Okay, so, I'm serious…..i would really really really like some reviews here. They mean so much to me, honestly.**

_**NOTE::::: I'm editing this whole story, top to bottom SO, if the chapter count CHANGES, don't freak out. it just means I combined some chapters in the beginning. Please go read and comment on the edits, so I know if I'm doin' good. **___

Dean watched absently as Kat and Sam hovered over Ash's set up. The laptop was whirring again, and Ash was saying something about string theory that made Kat laugh. He sent a soft smile in her direction before turning back to Pamela.

She was just as hot as he remembered, but nothing in his body _wanted_ her. Not really. He took a moment to curse Kat in his head, for taming him without even trying. He didn't even get to have her, and she was changing him.

"So!" he said with fake cheeriness. He felt obligated to talk to her, since he got her killed.

The smack to his head a moment later confirmed that she thought that too. "That was for gettin' me killed."

"Yeah. That's… probably less than I deserve. Makes you feel any better we got Ash killed too," he said brightly. He knew Kat wouldn't agree to that, considering it'd been her he'd come to help. But Dean was Dean, and he somehow managed to put the blame on himself.

Ash snapped his fingers and raised his hand in a rock-salute. "I'm cool with it!"

"He's cool with it," Dean repeated, his head shaking. "So are you…are you good?"

Pamela smiled and leaned towards him. "I'm good. Really. Remember my death scene? Gut shot. Coughing blood. You told me I was going someplace better?" she asked looking at him.

"I was lying," Dean said softly.

"You were right! My heaven? It is one long show at the Meadowlands. It's amazing! You should see it," she said sitting back. Dean shook his head, unable to comprehend being just okay with it all.

"Yeah," he said noncommittally, nodding his head.

"You don't believe me?" She asked, her eyes narrowing.

"No, I do, it's just, you know. Spending eternity trapped in your own little universe while the angels run the show, that's lonely. You know. That's not Nirvana. That's the Matrix," he said shrugging. He found it hard to communicate what he felt. He didn't want to be alone forever. When he woke up he felt like something was missing beside him. He didn't think he could survive being dead alone.

"I don't know. Attic's still better than the basement," Pamela said. Dean inwardly flinched, memories of hell still racing through his head. She had no idea.

But to Dean…this was just another type of hell. One where they fucked you up mentally instead of physically. He felt bad for the poor bastards that'd been forced to relive memories a billion times already.

"Yeah but…you know this place feels real. But it's Memorex. Real's down there," he said, trying to get her to understand his logic.

"Yeah, well. Close enough. I'm happy here, Dean. Okay? I'm at peace," she said with a smile.

"What? Are you trying to sell me a time share? I mean, what's with the pitch?" Dean asked, looking her over.

She chuckled softly and looked at him. "I know that Michael wants to take you out for a test drive," she said by way of explanation.

"Pamela…" he warned. He was vaguely aware that Kat was walking towards him.

"Just sayin'. What happens if you play ball with him? Worst case?" she asked.

"A lot of people die," Dean said seriously.

"And then they come here. Is that really so bad? Look. Maybe…you don't have to fight it so hard. That's all I'm trying to say," she said.

He was about to respond when Kat reached him. She gave him a passing glance and turned her eyes to Pamela.

"This war is about more than just the lives that will undoubtedly be lost. And what makes you so sure the angels will want to give out Fast Passes to paradise? They aren't as forgiving or righteous as you make them out to be. And aside from your opinion, not everyone views death as an escape," she said darkly, her eyes trained on the woman before her.

Dean blinked from the harshness in her words and the ferocity in her eyes. He cast a look down at her and saw the fingers of her right hand absently tracing the scars on her left arm.

Before anyone could say anything more, Sam called them over.

"Found a shortcut to the Garden," he said. Kat left the woman without a backward glance and Pamela turned to Dean.

"That your girl?" she asked, eyeing the woman with predatory eyes. Dean sent a sad look to Kat, still thinking about how much she'd lost.

"No," he answered softly, wishing he could say yes. He smiled wistfully, just thinking about it. No doubt he'd be a possessive bastard. Wrapping his arm around her and shooting glares at any guy who looked at her twice. Loudly proclaiming her to be his after only a few drinks, and allowing her to tug him to the dance floor to slow dance.

He shook his head, ridding himself of thoughts that could never be. She probably didn't like him anyway. Much less love him.

"No…she's not," he said quietly.

He walked over to the door of the bar, where Ash was drawing a symbol that Dean didn't recognize.

"All access pass to the Magic Kingdom," he said brightly. Dean could hear Pamela hugging Sam goodbye behind them, and knew that Kat wanted to leave.

"Good," Dean said with a smile. Ash turned to look at him and his smile dropped. "Not good?"

"That Zachary fella's going to be watching every road to the Garden," Ash said. Dean saw Kat crack her back, ready for some form of action, and gaze at Ash slowly.

"I'll miss you," she said softly. The man sighed and pulled her into a hug, resting his chin on the top of her head.

"…miss you too Kit. I'll miss you too," he said gruffly, his eyes closed slightly. When they pulled away, she had a stern look on her face.

"You better be relivin' some memories of me," she said firmly. Ash smiled and nodded swiftly.

"Course! I love the one where I beat you in Halo," he said with a grin.

"That was one time!" she declared, as if another person cared all that much. Dean smiled at their antics and stepped back to let them say goodbye.

He smirked a bit as Pamela walked towards him. He went for a hug, his arms wide open. His smile faltered as he felt her hand snake around his neck and push him down.

And then their mouths collided and she was kissing him.

It wasn't like his dream of kissing Kat. This was numb, slick, bruising. This wasn't firey or passionate or loving beneath it all. He didn't feel anything.

Not even lust.

Pamela pulled back slightly, a smile on her lips, before crashing them back together. And his hands couldn't decide whether to push her away or hold her closer. But every fiber of his being was screaming at him.

_It wasn't Kat. She wasn't Kat._


	104. Chapter 104

"Ash," Kat said softly, her tone suddenly much less lively. He nodded for her to continue, his eyes watching her squirming figure. "I…I didn't wake up here….alone," she whispered.

"You mean..?" he trailed off.

"I woke up next to Dean, in one of his memories. He hadn't woken up yet, so I left," she said quickly. "Do you think that means...?" she couldn't bring herself to say it out loud.

"Shit man…soul mates?" he questioned, leaning back slightly. She smiled anxiously, her mouth open to reply, when it snapped shut quickly.

Her eyes widened and her heart broke.

Dean stood before, Pamela latched to his body, lips on his. She flinched backwards into Ash, unable to take her eyes from the sight before her. Somewhere within the numbness, she felt Ash wrap his arms around her. She felt herself being pulled away and she felt Sam's questioning eyes. But all she saw was the kiss. All she wanted was to be in Pamela's place. All she knew was that she would never be able to.

"Just like I imagined." She heard Pamela say it and winced. She had never really kissed anyone besides Alistair. She wondered what it would be like to kiss Dean.

Immediately an image of sparks and flames and light and _life _poured before her eyes. And she could feel herself falling away, because she wanted that. But she could never have it. Could never have _him_.

She was sure Ash could tell the moment her body went on auto-pilot, because he let her go and stretched loudly.

"Ah, gentlemen. I don't mean to be a downer…but I'm sure I'll see you again soon," he said with a slightly fake grin. Kat moved too, and watched as Dean turned around. She was surprised to note that there was no satisfied smirk on his face, and that his eyes were not darkened with lust.

But she didn't know what one was supposed to look like after kissing, so she didn't dwell on it. She didn't dwell on anything. She was moving of her own accord, breathing, thinking, processing.

"Well, keep a sixer on ice for us," Dean said with a half-smirk.

Ash nodded and kissed Kat on the cheek as she walked into through the door after Sam. Through her haze, she sent him a soft smile back.

When she stepped through, she sent a confused look at Dean. They were in a dark house, one that looked only slightly familiar to her. She tilted her head thinking until Dean interrupted her thoughts.

"What the…Why are we back home?" he asked, looking around. Kat's eyes widened a fraction as she realized they were back in Lawrence. She tilted her head and shivered. It looked a little creepy in the dark.

"I don't know. So, what are we going to do?" Sam asked, unconsciously directing the question at Dean. Kat sighed in discontent. It'd be the day when they came to her for her opinion.

"Keep looking for the road, I guess," Dean answered, looking around the house.

Kat jumped violently when she saw Mary behind Dean. She shivered violently, and berated herself for being so weak. She cringed slightly when Dean laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder, but he didn't notice.

"Honey, why are you up?" Mary asked, her nightgown swishing around her body with its movements.

"Look. I'm-I'm sorry. I love you but you're not real and we don't have time—" Dean said sadly.

"Did you have another nightmare? Tell me," Mary said softly, moving forward slightly. Kat moved backwards, a sick feeling rising in her stomach.

"Dean we need to leave," she whispered.

"I gotta go," he said, unable to meet his mother's eyes. Kat pulled on his jacket sleeve, urging him backwards.

"Then how 'bout I tell you my nightmare, Dean? The night I burned," Mary said, her voice no longer sweet. Kat watched in horror as a red stain appeared on the white nightgown.

"Sammy, let's get out of here," Dean said shakily, his voice wavering dangerously. Kat nodded and started backing up again.

"Don't you walk away from me," Mary said harshly. Kat froze along with Dean. "I never loved you," she said venomously. "You were my burden. I was shackled to you. And look what it got me." Her eyes turned yellow and a viscous smile spread across her lips.

"Dean," Kat whispered, her eyes huge and sad. He turned to her, and his face made her want to cry. He looked devastated. His eyes were hollow and his arms were limp. His bottom lip trembled ever so slightly, and his face was crumpled with grief and pain.

The room changed around them, the doors bricking over and the windows disappearing. They had no escape. Kat tried to keep eye contact with Dean, trying to offer him something. Anything.

"The worst was the smell," Mary said lightly. . The pain, well. What can you say about your skin bubbling off? But the smell was so… You know, for a second I thought I'd left a pot roast burning in the oven. But… it was my meat."

Kat muffled a cry by biting her lip, remembering the pain vividly as her scars seemed to shout their approval of Mary's words. She gripped Dean's hand with everything she had.

"And then I was dead. But at least I was away from you. Everybody leaves you, Dean. You noticed? Mommy. Daddy. Even Sam," Mary continued. "Ever ask yourself why? Maybe it's not them. Maybe it's you."

Kat shook her head violently and opened her mouth.

"Easy now kitten," a pompous voice called from behind Mary.

"You don't want me to take out the big guns…do you?"

"You son of a bitch!" she seethed, her eyes narrowing.

"You did this?" Sam asked in horror.

"I'm just getting started," Zachariah said with a wicked grin. Kat ripped her hand free of Dean's and started towards him, his blood boiling. The grin grew as she stopped short.

"S-Susie?"


	105. Chapter 105

**This is for xxmaskedchickxx's birthday! Told you I'd upload!**

**love, review, read, not in that order. O.o**

**-Han**

"S-Susie?"

"Hi big sissy! I missed you!" the little girl said brightly. Her green eyes were sparkling and intelligent. She looked about seven. Dean drew his eyes away from his mother's smirking face to look at the little girl.

"Susie, get away from him," Kat whispered, holding her hand out to the girl. The grin fell from the girls face and she glared at her older sister.

"Why would I go with you, after what you did to me?" she asked, her voice rising. Kat flinched violently and shook her head quickly.

"No! It was Alistair. He was the one that hurt you," she said quickly.

"You didn't fight hard enough," Susie said. "You never fight hard enough. You just keep letting people die, Kathy. It's your entire fault! You can't save anyone! You're no better than _him_ and you know it! You're exactly what _he_ wanted you to be."

"No. No! I'm not like him!" Kat shouted, her hands rising to cradle her head. Dean tried to approach her but she shrank away from him.

"Yes you are! You're not special, you're _not wanted_. You're just the same trash as him. You'll always be second best, Kathy. No one will ever pick you. You don't deserve to be picked," the little girl sneered.

"Please, Susie, _please._ I'm sorry. I'm so sorry," Kat whimpered.

"Sorry doesn't change the _seven hours_ it took for me to die! Do you want me to tell your little friends exactly how that happened? I think they'd like a play by play…wouldn't you? But…you did have a front row seat, Kathy. How close were you, _exactly?"_

Kat fell to her knees, her head shaking back and forth. She looked up at Zachariah, her eyes streaming. "Please stop it. Please," she whispered. He smiled waspishly and snapped his fingers. Susie smiled again and bounded to the angel. He scooped her up and leaned down to kiss along Mary's neck.

Kat and Dean looked away, unable to handle the sight before them. Dean felt himself be restrained, but his eyes were on Kat. If he could see her wings, he thought they would be trailing on the floor, broken and sad.

"Did you really think you'd just sneak past me to Mission Control?" Zachariah asked incredulously, eyeing the three in front of him. Dean unconsciously reached for Kat, ignoring her feeble attempts to push her away and drew her to his body.

As soon as she began to lean into him, they were ripped apart by two angel goons. Dean struggled weakly, but didn't feel the energy in his body. Kat obviously felt the same, and didn't even bother to struggle.

"You can gloat all you want, you dick. You're still bald," Dean said gruffly. Kat let out a strained laugh and Dean smiled in triumph.

"In heaven, I have six wings and four faces, one of whom is a lion. You see this because you're…" He trailed off and ran a finger down Mary's arm, his other hand still cradling Susie. Sam was the one to look away that time. "limited," he finished.

"I can see you just fine, and honestly, it's a bit of a let down," Kat piped up, her eyes glittering with renewed energy.

"Do you really want to do this with me?" He asked, snapping his fingers and erasing the image of Mary and Susie.

"Bring it," she sneered, leaning forward. The angel who held her tightened his grip and she snarled viciously at him.

"Oh please, I don't have time for you," he said with a wave of his hand. Kat growled, but quieted. Dean thought it was only because she wanted to know why he was doing all of this. "Now! Let's brass tackle this, shall we?"

"You gonna ball-gag us till we say yes? Huh, yeah, I've heard that one too," Dean said, encouraged by Kat's defiance.

Zachariah smiled and stepped forward. Before Dean could blink, a sharp pain was blooming in his stomach and he absently realized that the angel had punched him. As he looked up with bleary eyes, he noticed Kat and Sam struggling against their bonds.

"Let me tell you something. I was on the fast track once. Employee of the month, every month, forever. I would walk these halls and people would _AVERT THEIR EYES!_" Zachariah screamed, causing the house around them to shake and rumble with the force of his voice. Dean struggled against the angels blows, and breathed a sigh when he stopped. "I HAD _'RESPECT'_!" he bellowed.

"And then they assigned me you. Now look at me," he said, chuckling unhappily. "I can't close the deal on a couple of flannel-wearing maggots? Everybody's laughing at me… and they're right to do it. So! Say yes, don't say yes; I'm still going to take it out of your asses. It's personal now, boys, and the last person in the history of creation you want as your enemy is me. And I'll tell you why. Lucifer may be strong, but I'm… ''petty''. I'm going to be the angel on your shoulder for the rest of eternity," he finished with a vicious smile.

Kat paused in her rabid attempt to free herself when she saw an older dark-skinned man standing behind the angel.

"Excuse me. Sir?" the man asked, smiling demurely and radiating a kindness that she had never seen in any angel. Even Cas did not exude such serenity. His was more a happy curiosity.

Zachariah turned half way around to glare a the newcomer. "I'm in a meeting."

"I'm sorry," the angel said amiably. "I need to speak with those three."

"Excuse me?" Zachariah asked in a shocked voice.

"It's a bad time, I know, but I'm afraid I have to insist."

"You don't get to insist jack-squat," Zachariah said cruelly. Kat thought it was odd that he could still sound intimidating while saying 'jack-squat'. The newcomer didn't back down. He only stared at Zachariah in a way that seemed to unnerve him.

"No, you're right. But the Boss does. His orders," the man said smoothly. Kat blinked, realizing this to be Joshua. She thought he reminded her of Morgan Freeman, just as amiable and gentle.

"You're lying," Zachariah said uncertainly.

"I wouldn't lie about this. Look, fire me if you want. Sooner or later, he's going to come back home and you know how he is with that whole wrath thing," Joshua said logically. Kat bit back a smile at his words and thought she would like this angel.

Zachariah looked back at the three of them, his eyes uncertain. And then there was the flutter of wings and Kat felt a breeze on her arms. The angel goons were gone and so was Zachariah.

"I really didn't like him," Kat said plainly, looking at the spot her baby sister had been only minutes before.

She heard Joshua chuckle softly and looked up at him. But she wasn't in the house anymore. Sam and Dean were beside her, in some sort of Botanical Garden. She looked around at the exotic plants with interest and busied herself by inspecting the closest flower.

"This is heaven's Garden?" Sam asked curiously.

"It's-it's nice-ish…I guess," Dean said lamely.

"I think it's pretty," Kat said, leaning in to smell the flower.

"You see what you want to here. For some it's God's throne room; for others it's Eden. You two, I believe it's the Cleveland Botanical Gardens. You came here on a field trip," Joshua explained easily.

"Do the flowers really get that big?" Kat asked, leaning over another open flower that she found to be larger than her open hand.

Joshua chuckled again, looking her over. "You have your father's curiosity," he informed her.

"You know? Do all the angels know?" she asked curiously.

"I imagine so. You were a bit of a scandal a couple decades back," he said with a smile.

"You're Joshua," Dean stated after a moment of silence where Kat had only looked thoughtful.

"I'm Joshua," he repeated.

"So you talk to God?" Sam asked.

"Mostly, he talks to me," the angel replied, causing Kat to chuckle.

"Well, we need to speak with Him. It's important," Sam said, looking nervously around himself. Kat looked up and smiled encouragingly. If they went through Joshua, maybe Chuck would just tell them the truth. Maybe he'd make it easier for them. Her smile faded as she recalled what He told her. He was putting his faith in humanity. But He would realize that they were doomed, wouldn't He?

"Where is he?" Dean asked, looking around as if God Himself would be behind him.

"On Earth," Joshua answered calmly.

"Doing what?" Dean asked.

"I don't know," the angel said. Kat winced at the thought of telling all of them that God was off getting drunk and writing romance novels.

"Do you know where on Earth?" Sam asked.

"No. Sorry. We don't exactly speak face-to-face," Joshua said.

"I…I don't get it. God's not talkin' to nobody so…" Dean trailed off, unaware of the slight southern twang that had slipped into his speech.

"Why's he talking to me. I sometimes think it's because I can sympathize—gardener to gardener—and, between us, I think he gets lonely," the angel said amiably. Kat looked thoughtfully around herself, as if she felt bad for him.

"Well my heart breaks for him," Dean said bitingly. Kat looked at him sadly, as if she could see into his soul.

"Mine does," she said very softly. "Wouldn't you feel lonely? I don't think any of the other gods that are still around like Him very much. All the others have died out," she looked for confirmation from Joshua.

"She's right," he said shrugging.

"Well, can you at least give him a message?" Sam asked hopefully.

"Actually, he has a message for you," Joshua said slowly. "Back off."

"What?" Dean asked, affronted. Kat looked up and cocked her head to the side, as if wondering why God would say it. Dean shook his head at her curiosity, and turned his eyes to Joshua.

"He knows already. Everything you want to tell him," he said seriously. Kat nodded absently, seeming mollified with this answer.

"But-" Dean started.

"He knows what the angels are doing. He knows that the Apocalypse has begun. He just doesn't think it's his problem," he said. Kat looked up and tilted her head.

"Not his problem?" Dean asked stunned.

"I think you phrased that a little harshly," Kat mumbled. Joshua looked at her sharply and she shrugged. "I think it's more that he wants to put faith in humanity. Prove something to the angels," she said, her face crumpled in concentration.

Joshua nodded absently, as if dismissing an annoying child. "God saved you already. He put you on that plane. He brought back Castiel. He granted you Salvation in heaven," he faced Sam directly, "and after everything you've done too. It's more than he's intervened in a long time. He's finished. Magic amulet or not, you won't be able to find him."

Kat looked down, as if in guilt. Dean didn't bother to think over it, knowing that her outward emotions could be deceiving.

"But he can stop it. He can stop all of it," he said, looking imploringly at the angel, as if begging him to say it was a joke.

"I suppose he could, but he won't," he said calmly.

"Why not?" Dean asked.

"Why does he allow evil in the first place? You could drive yourself nuts asking questions like that," Joshua replied with a shrug.

"So he's just gonna sit back and watch the world burn?" Dean asked, praying for it to not be true. He couldn't take another disappointment.

"I know how important this was to you. Dean, I'm sorry," he said.

Dean was silent for a moment and he was sure that anyone looking directly at him could have seen the pain and anguish on his face. "Forget it. Just another dead-beat dad with a bunch of excuses, right, I'm used to that," he paused a moment and his eyes flickered to Kat. He was surprised to see her watching his with sad blue eyes. "I'll muddle through."

"Except… you don't know if you can, this time. You can't kill the Devil, and you're losing faith, in yourself, your brother, and now this?" Joshua asked and Dean was sure that his brother could see past the walls now. There was nothing to bar his soul from the world and it lay barren to his brother, an angel, and the woman he loved. He closed his eyes in shame of his own weakness.

He missed the single tear that fell from her cheek in shared sadness.

"God was your last hope. I just…I wish I could tell you something different," the angel said softly. Dean only shook his head, refusing to look up.

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" Sam asked, speaking up.

"You think I would lie?" the angel asked, not sounding particularly offended.

"It's just that, you're not the first angel we've met," he tried to explain.

"I'm rooting for you boys! I just wish I could do more to help you, I do. But I just…trim the hedges," he said.

"So what now?" Kat asked softly, wiping away the tear as Dean looked up.

"You all go home. But this time…God wants you to remember," he said softly, waving his hand. White light surrounded them and Dean thought it blanketed his skin. It didn't burn as he thought it would. It was rather comforting. He smiled and thought that was where the myth about angels being merciful might've come from. He wondered if Kat's Grace felt like that.

And it felt like every dream he'd had since he realized he liked her. His last thought was of her and then he woke up.


	106. Chapter 106

**IMPORTANT QUESTION:::**

**Okay, so I'm terribly sorry that this isn't a new chapter, and I know you probably hate me because I'm horrible about uploading recently, but I need your help. In the process of editing, it's a VERY slow process, I've realized a few things.**

**No One reads them. This is okay of course, but I honestly have no idea if you like them or if I'm going the right direction. Also, the story itself at this point, is quiet unorganized, and the few (but lengthy and annoying) bad reviews are attracting some negative attention to this story.**

**SO;**

**we have two options here, and I'm letting you guys decide, because your opinions are the ones that matter.**

**I can, continue the way I'm doing this, which would involve a slow overhaul that most of you wouldn't bother with and updating ONLY one chapter per 5-10 edited.**

**OR**

**I can repost the edits as a completely new story, wrap up the original (or not depending on what you want = a messy story with a good ending or a well-thought out and written story with a great ending). This would involve a quicker post of chapters (the beginning would only slightly resemble the original) and an all around better story.**

**My problem with this is, I don't want to loose any of you as readers. You mean the world to me. So, if I were to go with option two, would you still review?**

**Review the answers or PM me if you have any questions, comments, concerns, etc.**

**Thank you so so so much for your time.**


	107. Chapter 107

**WOOT! new chapter! okay, so I went with option two, so 1-3 edits are up. please please go see them and review. Thank you guys so much, and this one may stay up permanently or until I reach this point in the edits. Thank you so so much.**

**I love you!**

**-Han**

She could hear the sound of a trailer-tractor outside, and thought it sounded almost like an alarm. Horns; God's alarm clocks. She picked herself off the floor slowly, her body aching in protest. She cast a sidelong glance at the door, and cringed at the amount of blood smeared against the door. She looked up and locked eyes with Sam, the mutual hopelessness there made her heart ache.

She closed her eyes for a moment, focusing on locking back all the emotions rushing through her body. She decided she'd not die again anytime soon, the revelations it brought were too confusing to her mind.

She jumped slightly, when she felt Dean's hand on her shoulder. And she knew it to be Dean's, because no one else could cause her heart to flutter and electricity to spark across her skin. No one else could make her Grace feel within her grasp.

"Are you okay?" he asked softly, his hollow green eyes staring into hers. She blinked, searching for that spark of gold and light. But all there was, was desperation.

"As long as you are," she said softly, taking hold of his hand softly. There was a deep sigh from him as his hand grew limp.

"Hate to be the bearer of bad news," he said with a half-hearted smile. She returned it, and twined their fingers for a moment, and just gazed at the contrast. His long, tan, slim fingers twining with her pall and small.

"Maybe you should call Cas," she said softly.

He nodded mutely and his fingers slipped from hers. She stood numbly, and snatched up her duffle, walking carefully to the bathroom, pausing to hug Sam gently. His tall body wound around hers for a brief moment and she could smell the metallic tang of his blood through his shirt.

The moment she was alone, she stripped off her bloody clothes, sure that the boys would do so on the other side of the door. The ruined clothes landed on the broken tiled floor and she chanced a glance down. No scar.

That was good at least. Stared at her blood stained skin and sighed, before reaching in and turning on the shower. She slipped inside, letting the water beat down on her back and wash away the rusty stains.

She wondered absently for a moment when the last time she sang was, but couldn't find the energy to. She dressed numbly and followed Dean and Sam to the car, to another motel in another city, and sat quietly on the bed while they called Cas. Her eyes were on the ground as Dean explained, wincing every time he spoke. His voice was hollow and dead sounding, like he had nothing left to live for.

When he was done, she looked up slowly, trying to lock eyes with the angel she had come to love. He was leaning against the cheap wall divider, his shoulders slumped. His wings drooped lifelessly on the floor and his eyes were glazed over.

"Maybe…maybe Joshua was lying," he said softly, an uncertain hope in his voice. Dean and Sam turned to him, and Kat felt an unwanted sheen of tears spring to her eyes at the desperation in his voice.

"I don't think he was, Cas. I'm sorry," Sam said softly, sighing loudly. Kat stood up, making a half step towards him. Before she could reach him, the angel turned his back, looking up the ceiling as if the dry-wall held the answers.

"You son of a bitch I believed in…" he trailed off, his voice choking. Kat shook her head, moving towards him again. This time Dean caught her arm. He shook his head, looking very much like he wanted to reach out to the angel as well.

Cas turned back to them, looking solely at Dean. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small amulet. His hand shook slightly as he looked at it.

"I don't need this anymore," the angel said, his voice thick. He tossed it to Dean, who caught it deftly and stared at it a moment, his green eyes reminiscent and far away. "It's worthless," Castiel said.

"Dad," Kat called softly, the word feeling unsure in her mouth. His head jerked to her, his eyes dark and unreadable. "Dad, please," she tried again.

Her shoulders dropped in as the sound of wings filled the room. Castiel was gone, and she looked helplessly at Dean. But for once, he did not have an answer.

It was Sam who spoke a moment later. "We'll find another way. We can still stop this, Dean," he said softly, speaking to only his brother. Kat wiped at her eyes, somewhat surprised to find them dry, and looked up into his green eyes.

"How?" he asked his brother softly, looking up from the amulet in his hands. His voice sounded lost and scared, like a child. Kat cringed and wondered why her world suddenly felt as if it was falling away.

"I don't know. But we'll find it. Me and you, we'll find it," he said. She felt the words as if they were blows to her chest and turned away from them. The infallible brothers. She was stupid to assume that she had a place there.

Dean moved past her, picking up her hand and dropping the amulet in it without missing a beat. Without looking at either of them, he moved to the bathroom and locked the door behind him. She could hear the shower start a moment later. She scrubbed at her eyes again, and slipped the amulet over her neck, feeling the cool metal on her skin.

She walked past Sam, who looked sad but determined, and out into the afternoon light. She walked aimlessly, concentrating on keeping one foot in front of the other. A soft wind blew her hair back, and the sun bathed her pale skin in golden light.

She wasn't sure where she was going. She only knew that she had to keep moving, or she would lose it. Lose everything. She felt as if her mind was hanging by a thread and she didn't want to come undone again. She needed to be strong for Dean, who was so lost. She needed to be strong for Cas, who was living broken. She knew what that felt like and wished she could do something.

But all she could do was move forward. So that's what she did. Sad songs were on replay in her mind and her arms were crossed over her stomach, holding herself together.

At some point, she realized that it was getting dark, and that her legs were tired. Absently, she turned around, the pavement a cement blur beneath her as she became aware that she started running, and it had started raining. Water beat down on her and her skin raised with goose-bumps. She ran faster, her arms pumping and her wet hair flying behind her and slapping against her back.

When she arrived at the motel, she opened the door quietly, slipping inside and into the bathroom with a handful of clothes. The wet clothing slid to the floor and she breathed in relief as neither of the boys asked where she had been. She would be surprised if they'd even noticed she was gone.

She slid out of the bathroom and into bed, scooting slightly away from Dean. She felt disconnected, unreal. Her skin was numb from the rain and the cold and the rejection.

She didn't think he meant to ignore her, push her off to the side, but he still did. All of them did at one point or another, but she could never be upset with them. They were The Brothers. Nothing was to come between them. They were supposed to save the world and each other and themselves and that was it. They didn't have time for anything else, and certainly not love. But that was okay, she reasoned. She would take any piece of his she was afforded.


	108. Chapter 108

**This one is short, but hey, it's an update. –shrugs-. I love you guys! REVIEW if you love me and want me to upload again tomorrow or MAYBE even tonight. ;)**

**-Han**

The sky was dark and empty, artificial light blocking out the stars, and Dean felt it in his soul. Desperation.

It was a word he'd told himself he'd never know the meaning of. It was a word he'd told himself he'd never need to feel. But then, Sam had been stabbed, Lucifer had been set free, Kat had almost died, and now God jumped ship.

Desperation was beginning to feel like his norm.

He couldn't keep pretending like it was all going to be fine. He couldn't keep pretending like they could kill Lucifer, or even lock him up again. They were screwed, and he was tired of his optimist 'kumbaya' attitude.

Dean's fingers lazily trailed across Kat's skin, following the ridges of her scars. The woman beside him shivered and rolled closer to him, mumbling softly. He gave a weak smile and thought about how much he would hate himself, if she died in this war. How much he would blame himself if Lucifer killed her.

He could stop it.

The thought came to him so quickly he thought he might get whiplash. He'd thought about it before, and had always dismissed it. They'd had better options. Now…it might be the only one they had.

His eyes traced the pale form of her and knew she would fight him on it. Her blue eyes would flare up with hurt and anger and she would tell him there was another way. But there wouldn't be. Not one that ensured the world's survival. Not one that ensured his family's survival. Bobby, Kat, Cas, and Sam were the only people he had driving him. He had nothing left to fight for.

He would say he was empty, but he knew he wasn't. The love he felt for his brother and Kat was more that he should ever deserve to feel. He didn't deserve to feel anything at all, but he was. And he was drowning in it. In the feeling.

He felt guilt for his mind's wanderings, lust for the woman next to him, and love for her too. He felt pain in his heart and anxiety on his shoulders. He felt like Atlas, shouldering the world and having no way out from under it. He felt the warmth on his skin from hers and the pull of his scars when he moved.

He just _felt_.

His fingers found the set of wings around his neck and he felt the cool metal. He knew what he had to do, but he didn't want to do it. He wanted to stay here, forever in the blanket of her arms. Protecting her and being protected. He wanted to be with her, without the fear of tomorrow or the pain it would bring. He wanted to love her with no preamble, just let loose the achy _feeling_ in his mind.

He wanted her, but he also wanted her alive.

So he pressed a soft kiss to her forehead, and touched the amulet she now wore around her neck. He slipped from the covers and let his feet hit shabby carpeting. He stood slowly, muscles tensing and relaxing as he moved. Everything ached, and he would miss it.

He didn't think he'd get to _feel_ when Michael was commanding his body.

He dressed in the hazy touch of darkness and moved back to her. She was farthest from the door, allowing him the simply comfort of dying first should someone attack. His hand skimmed her cheek and he bent down, pressing soft kisses to her neck and forehead, too scared to touch her lips.

He sighed, a deep sorrowful thing, and left the room. His car sat faithfully outside, gleaming in the half-light of street lamps and passing cars. He folded his body into the driver's seat and prayed she would understand.

In the darkness of Morganton, North Carolina, in a Sunset Inn parking lot, a key turned. Head lights illuminated dusty windows with curtains drawn, and the rumbling of a deep engine filled the slow-going air. As the car turned, heading out of the lot, the driver turned his green eyes to the room he'd just left and said a prayer, even though he knew God wasn't taking calls at the moment.

When the words left his lips, his expression hardened and he hit the gas. The car responded, propelling the machine forward and down the road, leaving a trail of dust behind.


	109. Chapter 109

When Kat awoke, the space beside her was empty. She was not wrapped firmly in his arms, and she could not feel his breath on her skin. She sat up, looking around casually for Dean. It wasn't unlike him to wake for no apparent reason and do a full sweep of the room. But he wasn't there.

She rolled her eyes, figuring he'd gone to a bar or something. He'd done that before when he'd had something on his mind. Kat rolled over on her stomach and snuggled absently into the slightly warm spot left by Dean's body.

When the sun finally reached her through annoyed eyelids, she yawned loudly.

"Dean?" she mumbled, feeling blindly for him, her eyes still glued shut with sleep. She finally opened her eyes, blinking back the burn from the sun. Dean wasn't there.

She jumped up and looked out the window, seeing the Impala gone as well.

"Sam!" she shouted, rushing to his bed. He grumbled and rolled over. "Dean's gone!" The tall man shot up and groaned at the rush of blood to his head, but he didn't care.

"Dammit," he grumbled, jumping from the bed. "We need to steal a car," he said flatly, as he rushed to the bathroom to pack and dress at the same time. Kat took the moment to slip on a pair of low-rise jeans and an old shirt that proudly proclaimed that 'you had me at bacon,' and a pair of slightly heeled boots that laced in the front.

She threw her hair into a sloppy bun and grabbed at her stuff, packing it all swiftly. When her duffels rested, packed, on her bed, her hand fingered the amulet around her neck. She knew he'd only given it to her because he couldn't stand to see it anymore. She knew he'd only given it to her because she'd given him her necklace.

But it didn't matter, because she loved it. Her hand gripped the amulet and she prayed he wasn't doing anything stupid. When Sam reappeared, she felt the rising dread in her chest.

"You know what he's probably doing, don't you?" he asked, slinging a duffel over his shoulder. Kat stayed stoic, unwilling to believe it. "He's going to give himself the Michael," Sam said quietly.

Kat stiffened, her muscles taut and constricted. Her head whirred with thoughts and she could feel her Grace pumping inside of her, begging to be let out. The amulet heated until her mind was screaming at her to pull it away from her skin, and her wings were stretching outwards.

And then it was over and she was still standing there. She collapsed backwards on the bed and watched as Sam called her name. She wondered if it was her mind thinking of Dean, or of the very thought of the dreaded arch angel. She pulled herself from her haze long enough to wipe her streaming eyes and shake her head. "Give me time, I can find him. I will find him," she said clearly.

Sam nodded reluctantly and went outside to hotwire a car, just in case. Kat put her head between her knees and mumbled something to herself, her knuckles white on the amulet. She knew her eyes were red and flowing and she knew her cheeks were flushed and her hands shaky. But she didn't care.

Her mind was alive and buzzing with a singular image. Of Dean, her Dean, slaughtering with no mercy. Her Dean dead and gone and his body being used for the destruction of humanity. She shut her eyes but the image prevailed. It scared her, to think about Dean as anything less than the person he was. But to imagine him as unfeeling?

It scared her more than she'd care to admit. When Sam came back in, she was almost to the door, her eyes still red. He sent her a sad smile and led her to a Honda Civic he'd hotwired. She sat in the passenger's seat, her eyes shut tightly. She was whispering words to herself, trying to access the Grace.

"Cas?" she asked finally, looking up. "Cas I need you," she whispered.

The angel appeared in the seat behind her and his head tilted in confusion. His eyes were still bleak and empty, but at least he had come. "What is it?"

"Dean's gone. To give himself to Michael. I know I can find him, but I can't get to it," she said, her eyes scrunched in frustration. Castiel scooted closer to her, eyeing her through the rearview mirror.

"Dean is protected from angels," he stated obviously.

"But I _know_ I can, Cas. Help me try," she whispered. The angel sighed, leaning over the edge and touching two fingers to her forehead. She sucked in a deep breath and her eyes rolled back into her head

A fire burned through her veins and she felt her Grace throb inside her, begging to be let out. Her back bowed and her finger wound into her hair as her mind unlocked her angelic side. She could feel it flooding through her, pushing wings outwards and making her gasp at the electric feeling.

When she looked up, she was aware of Sam's eyes flitting between her and the road, but all she could feel was the power in her veins. She wondered if Castiel felt this all the time before his fall. She struggled to control her breathing and gripped the amulet around her neck as tightly as she could. Her knuckles whitened and her eyes scrunched shut, her brow furrowed.

Though it was difficult in the confined space, she felt her wings begin to stretch as her mind filled with the overpowering image of a beige room somewhere in Virginia. Her hand shot out and gripped Sam on his shoulder and she was aware that Cas had taken hold of her arm.

Her wings stretched and opened and she flew away, winking out of existence with the others. The Honda drove on, no longer containing passengers. It rolled slowly to the side of the road, the empty seats a haunting sight to passerby.


	110. Chapter 110

**Hey! Sorry for the mix-up with the car! I had it in the doc but it didn't upload right or something, if you want to see it, it's up. Last Paragraph. Thanks so much for the reviews! Gives me more?**

**Love**

**-Han**

The room was quite nice, all things considered. It was clean and homey and decidedly beige. Dean took little time to appreciate this, however. In fact his attention was divided almost equally between the two things in front of him. One was the open cardboard box on the quilted bed and the other was the open bottle of hard liquor. The liquor happened to be taking up the most space in his mind.

Of course, that was probably because if whiskey could do one thing, it was make you forget. Fact was, if the bottle wasn't pressed to his lips, thoughts returned. He didn't like thoughts. All he could think about was this crushing sense of desperation.

They were never going to find a way to kill the Devil. They were stupid to try. He couldn't go on pretending that they could find a way. They wouldn't. And he would be damned if he let the world crumble to pieces around him if he could have stopped it. He wouldn't let more people die if they didn't have to. If it ended in his death, or his becoming a puppet, then so be it. He could handle being Michael's bitch as long as he saved the world.

There was a pen and paper in front of him and god help him, he had no idea how to fill the blank spaces. He had already written the ones to Bobby and Castiel out. They were mostly apologies. He knew the two men would be disappointed in him. How could they not? He just wasn't the hero they thought him to be. He couldn't handle it.

But now he had to write to Sammy and Kat. He thought he could get Sammy to understand. He was only doing exactly what Sam himself had done. Run away. Make a rash decision. He felt no guilt in leaving Sam behind. His younger brother had done it to him and there had been a demon bitch involved that time. This time it was only Dean. Nothing else.

He knew the others would try to persuade him, but he knew he was making the best choice he could. The only choice he could. So he wrote out his goodbye to his baby brother. Folding it closed and feeling no regret. This was his last act to protect his brother. His last act to obey his parents' wishes. Protect Sam. Watch out for Sam. Well, he was. And he would be sure he came out of this. Sam would survive.

There was one blank piece in front of him, and this one he wasn't sure how to fill. What could he say to her, exactly, to make this okay? What could he say to sum up how he felt? He didn't think anything would completely explain what he wanted to say. So he started writing.

_Kat,_

_ There isn't much I can tell you that could make you forgive me. And why should you? I know you won't understand why I have to do this, but I do. I hope one day you can find it in yourself to forgive me. But I do not regret what I'm going to do. I have to do this._

_ I don't know how to tell you that I'll miss you. Because I'm not sure if Michael will allow me to. But I do know that I'm happy I walked into the Roadhouse that night. I'm happy I met you. And I'm happy I fell for you. _

He paused and stared at the words. It felt good to get them out. He took a long swig and smiled at the burn that slid far too easily down his throat. He wondered for a moment, what condition his liver must be in. Maybe it was a good thing he was becoming a meat suit.

_There, I said (wrote) it. I'm not sure when it happened but it did and I know you don't feel the same so don't look all guilty. You know you are, stop fixating on it. It's okay if you don't…love me…like I love you and I don't want you to feel like you have to just because I'm telling you this._

_ What I do want is for you to look after Sammy. Get him out of this life for good and then you get out. Make lives for yourselves and like happily ever after. Whatever the hell that means._

_ Batman_

It only felt right to sign off with that. The term had gone from annoying him to filling him with some sort of warmth he barely recognized. He wasn't the same man he was when he met her. And that was just fine by him. He folded the stiff paper and slipped it into the envelope full of others. He closed that and set it gently inside the box. His fathers leather jacket was at the bottom, folded neatly. He took a moment to look at the worn patches and smile just a bit. On top of that was his gun. The Beretta was spotless, as always, the clip double checked.

He taped it shut and addressed it to the Salvage Yard. He wouldn't be seeing that place anytime soon.

"Sending someone a candy-gram?" Sam's voice called hopefully. There was desperation in his voice and Dean almost winced. Almost.

He turned slowly and took in his brother. Sam was breathing heavily and Kat was refusing to look at him. Her eyes were on the ground and her hands were in her pockets. There were dark circles under her eyes and she was almost leaning on Sam.

"How did you find me?" he asked tiredly. He didn't need this right now.

Sam looked pointedly at Kat and she raised a small hand to grip his amulet that hung from her neck. "I can always find you," she whispered. He looked at her sharply but her head was down. The black hair fell in tendrils over her shoulders and her bangs shielded her eyes.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked next, his voice clear that he didn't want them there.

"Did you really think we would let you kill yourself?" Kat asked her voice stronger than before.

"I'm not going to kill myself," Dean said, sighing heavily and reaching for his glass.

"So you're not about to become Michael's bitch?" Sam asked, his voice hard and tense. His brows were furrowed and he was in full puppy mode. Dean hated that face.

"So this is how it ends?" Kat asked suddenly, raising her blood-shot eyes to him. "You just walk out?"

"I guess," Dean said blandly.

"How could you do that?" Sam asked, eyes wide and face pleading.

"How could _I_? All you've _ever _done is run away," Dean snarled, his eyes fierce. The alcohol was getting to him. It was making him numb, but not enough that his brother's words didn't anger him.

"Yeah, and I was wrong every single time I did it," Sam said sadly.

"Please, Batman," Kat whispered. "Not now, we're working on something. Bobby's working on something."

"Really? What?" Dean asked sarcastically. Neither of them said anything and her eyes only widened further. Dean thought he'd never seen her eyes so dull. The natural bright blue was faded and weak. They were only shadows of the eyes he'd come to love so much. "You got nothin' and you know it."

"You know I have to stop you," Sam said, not bothering to move.

"Just remember you're not all hopped up on demon blood this time," Dean reminded.

"Yeah I know. That's why we brought help," he said. Dean turned and found Castiel behind him. As the angels fingers touched his head and the lights went out, he would pretend he hadn't seen the disappointment in his eyes.


	111. Chapter 111

**This chapter excites me because it's 111. MAKE A WISH! ^.^ I love you guys, please review. It keeps me sane, really. I come home from a long day of crappy school with crappy drama and you guys make me day infinetly better. I love you all so so so much.**

**-Han**

"Cas I'm scared," Kat whispered in the kitchen, away from a sleeping Dean in the other room. The angel regarded her with gentle eyes, showing the intelligence he'd gathered throughout his time.

"I know," he said softly. She hesitated a moment, then moved towards him. He stood stock still, his back straight. He didn't move as she hesitantly wrapped her arms around his waist. When her head fell to his chest, he awkwardly returned it.

"We'll die…won't we?" she asked calmly.

"It is not impossible," he said in return. She sighed, her eyes turned away from him.

"Cas…what are we going to do?" she asked softly.

"Keep fighting," he replied, his grip around her tightening. She nodded into his chest and sighed deeply.

"I won't give up like Dean," she whispered, mostly to herself. Cas looked down at her, his blue eyes boring into hers.

"Don't be a martyr either," he said firmly. She gave him a wan sort of smile and stepped back, nodding.

"We should go check on Dean." She left his arms and the room, her head down as she approached him. Dean was unconscious, had been for the last hour or so. She knew he would wake soon. She sighed, her chest falling slowly, and ran her fingers over his face.

"You son of a bitch," she whispered, glaring at his sleeping form. "You just can't make it easy, can you?"

Dean didn't answer, still comfortably dead to the world and consumed by dreams where the world was not ending. She sighed, pulling her hair up and trudging out the door. She needed to do something with her hands.

She stayed outside, buried beneath piles of old cars and under rusty hoods. She thought that she could have at least four of them running like morning. She wondered how far they would go, once she gave them life again. Would they go to the ends of the earth? Would she?

What would she do to stop the oncoming apocalypse? She sighed in the half-light of the lot cast by street lamps, and thought to herself. She thought she would do anything, if it meant she would save them. Save them all.

Her mind was caste back, to the athamé buried in her weapons duffel. The man she had bought it from had told her it was the weapon of the ages. That it would bend to the command of the user. That it would steal the soul of the enemy.

She wondered if she would be able to do all of that, should the Winchesters ever need it of her.

A small smile graced her lips and she knew she would. She would die for any of them in a heartbeat. And her heart was constantly beating. For the both of them. And for Bobby, and Cas.

She would do what was needed of her, just like always. And she would do it smiling. She stood from her position under the hood of a beater and looked up at the moon. It was only a sliver in the sky.

"We go to war with a smile on our faces, because we are friends of Death himself," she recited quietly. She didn't know who had said that, but she resolved to live by it.

She had known Death from the time she was a child, and had come to view it as not all that bad. Maybe even good here and there. And if the time should really come, that she be taken by it's shadowed hand, she would do so willingly. So long as Dean and Sam got out alive.

Xx

"Yeah, no, this is good. Really. You know, eight months of turned pages and screwed pooches but tonight, tonight's when the magic happens," Dean said, pacing back in forth in front of Bobby in the study.

He was only in here because Kat was out there and he refused to look at her. According to Sam, she went out into the lot with the tool box sometime around midnight and hadn't come back in. A part of him was glad that he wouldn't have to fess up to her disappointed blue eyes. He already had one pair watching his every move.

"You ain't helpin'," Bobby said gruffly, turning yet another page in yet another book in his infinite library. He wondered if the library of Congress was as well stocked.

"Yeah, well, why don't you let me get out of your hair, then?" He suggested childishly. He knew they wouldn't let him leave. They were still living in their idealistic bubble that everything would be okay.

Dean knew different. Really, truth was, they'd gotten lucky one too many times and now karma was back to take it out of their asses. And Dean wanted to be the only one to have to pay. Sam, Kat, Bobby, Cas. None of them deserved the horrors that the apocalypse would bring.

Dean had faced that kind of evil before. Had become a better and a worse man for it. Had broken and was fixed. He couldn't count on the chance that he would be able to fix all the others the way they had done him. He couldn't be sure that he could superglue Kat back together the way she had mended him.

Still aware of the cracks and their impact, but stronger for them. The scars still visible but the whole held together by sweat and tears and duct tape. And that was how he'd been built in the first place, so there really wasn't all that much of a difference.

"What the hell happened to you?" Bobby asked suddenly, breaking his reverie.

"Reality happened. Nuclear's the only option we have left. Michael can ice the devil, save a boatload of people," Dean said truthfully. He was waiting for the inevitable opposition and he got it quickly.

"But not _all_ of them. We gotta think of something else," Bobby replied stiffly. Dean sighed, knowing there was no way to say it with out going back on every principle he'd ever been taught.

But people died everyday. Lots of people. It was sad and it was tragic, but it did happen.

But he couldn't say that to Bobby.

"Yeah, well, that's easy for you to say. But if Lucifer burns this mother down, and I coulda done something about it, guess what? That's on me," Dean said heavily, going with the only other portion of the truth he could feel comfortable giving.

"You can't give up, son."

"You're not my father. And you ain't in my shoes." The words slipped from his mouth before he could register how little he meant them. Bobby was his father in all but blood. More loving than John had ever been. And he'd been there for them, whenever they needed him.

He might as well be in his shoes with the amount they put on him. Suddenly he was very concerned with Bobby's health. Was he eating enough? He seemed to be drawing closer to the thin side. Was he loosing his hair? It looked like he was.

He stopped his train of thought as Bobby took out a gun, his face absolutely blank. Tauntingly blank. Next came a bullet and Bobby was rolling it between his fingers and looking at it like it held all the answers. Dean was afraid to ask, but he did anyway.

"What is that?" he asked and there was fear in his voice. He didn't notice Kat walk back in the room, rubbing a dirty rag over her dirtier hands.

"That's the round that I mean to put through my skull," Bobby said frankly, as if commenting on the weather. Kat stopped in her tracks, her eyes snapping to Bobby's with a look of absolute disbelief. "Every morning, I look at it. I think, 'Maybe today's the day I flip the lights out.' But I don't do it. I _never_ do it. You know why? Because I promised _you_ I wouldn't give up!"

Kat blinked back a sudden onslaught of tears at the exclamation and was about to say something. Anything. Something inspiring that would bring them all together and help them win.

But all of a sudden her head was filled with voices, all shouting and screaming. She hunched over in time with Cas, struggling to make out the words embedded in the shouting. They were pulling her violently towards _somewhere _and she was sure if she could concentrate past the voices she would know where.

"Cas? Kat? Are you okay?" Sam asked in his concerned voice and it brought her back to Earth.

"No," they answered together.

"Something's happening," Cas said gruffly. Kat watched his wings spread and mimicked him, wondering if that was how it felt every time the angels spoke as one. She did not envy those who were forced to listen.

Before Castiel could leave her, she gripped the edges of his coats and followed him into the wind, loose papers swirling behind them.


	112. Chapter 112

**I know it's been a while! please don't hate me! I love you all so much, and thank you to those who reviewed the edits. those who havent read them, I strongly suggest doing so, because it's a big change. I LOVE YOU!**

**-Han**

Destruction. That was the only word that came to Kat's mind. Empty. Barren. Destruction.

She looked around carefully, her black hair swirling around her shoulders. She looked at Cas in confusion, but he was looking around himself in something like wonder. Kat shifted, and followed Cas as he began to walk to the center. She felt the ground pulsing beneath her booted feet. As if it were alive.

She stopped suddenly, as Cas continued on, reaching to touch the rising and falling ground. Just as her pale fingers brushed it, she felt the air around her move. Without missing a beat, she turned, launching herself at the opposing force.

The angel she hit crumpled at the waist, but stood again quickly. She yelped out something like a warning to Cas as another two attacked him. She growled to herself in irritation as the one she faced pulled out an angel blade. Shiny and small enough to conceal.

He attacked, his arm raised and his face twisted in hate. The light beneath his form pulsated with rage and fire. She ducked quickly, rolling to the side and kicking out her leg. She watched in fascination as his wings crumpled as he fell and snatched the sword from his weakened grasp.

She jumped up, wrapping her forearm around his neck and stabbing the blade through his back. She felt the grating of the blade as it scraped against the vessels spine, and winced as he gurgled what might have been a scream. Light spewed from his eyes and mouth but she couldn't look away. The light was blinding as she dropped him, standing still as the wings seemed to incinerate before her, leaving an ashen imprint on the ground.

She shook off the feelings of guilt ripping through her body, and turned to help Cas. She smiled a bit, as she realized that he had already killed the other two. She walked towards him, her face falling back into solemn guilt.

"Does it always hurt this much?" she asked softly.

"To kill a brother?" he asked, looking forlornly at the bodies. "Every time."

She sighed and followed him to a spot he seemed to realize was the source of the pulsating. She would never admit to Dean that she jumped, but she did the moment a pale, mud-covered hand shot from the ground.

Cas gripped the wrist, seeming unperturbed by the whole thing, and pulled. Kat covered her mouth and stepped back, her eyes wide as a body slowly emerged from the ground. When her eyes landed on an equally blue pair, she frowned. She didn't recognize this blonde boy, for he could not have been any older than her. He seemed to know her though, as he was hauled from the Earth and gripped by Cas. His eyes landed on hers and he backed away, spitting curses and shutting his eyes as if it would eradicate the image of the Nephilim.

She wondered if she should feel offended, but did not dwell on it. Many people did not like her. She imagined, many who had been dead would not either. She was, after all, still an abomination. A sin.

Never meant to be born or created.

She had accepted this the moment she realized that she was made from Cas, the one angel she respected. The one angel she trusted.

So why, then, did it hurt so much to see the boy stuttering out prayers to deliver him from evil, while refusing to lay eyes on her?

When he collapsed, she could only watch Cas struggle with him. It was only when his confused and pleading eyes turned to her that she moved to help him. Her arms supported him and she thought that he would hate to know that she had touched him. Her body trembled with the thought and she cursed herself.

Dean had made her soft. Vulnerable to a world of words she'd been sure she'd shut herself off from. And now things like this could make her wounded, could get her to feel the self-deprivation dripping from her heart until her mind was forced to come to terms with it. Eventually she would get the same answer.

She deserved it. And she wondered why she didn't get it from Dean or Sam. She wondered how they could stand to be near someone as unholy and vile. Sam she understood, he'd gone through much the same. But Dean? Warrior Dean?

It was a miracle that he could even stand to be in the same room without hunting her.

And love? She thought she should forget the possibility, because Dean was worth so much more than her. He would never see her that way. He would never love her.

Xx

"Help," Cas said flatly, struggling to keep a now unconscious Adam up. Kat had appeared next to him, her wings folding naturally into nothing and stepping away from him with her eyes cast down.

"Boys!" Bobby shouted through the house as he wheeled closer to Cas. Kat made room on a cluttered cot, heaving off heavy books and layers of dust. She motioned for Cas to come closer and lay him down on the cot. His body descended and lay softly down as Dean and Sam rushed in.

Kat looked at Sam, still refusing to meet the green eyes she loved so much, still refusing to see the pain in them. Her head tilted to the side and her black hair fell into her eyes as they looked confusedly at Sam.

"Who is this?" she asked, looking at the blue-eyed boy with something like regret. Even in his sleep he seemed to shrink away from her. She could feel Dean behind her, his eyes boring into her back, but she her sad eyes remained locked on the boy.

She wanted to turn to Dean and bury her head in his shoulder and tell him that it would be okay, and that she was there. But it wouldn't be. Her body ached to be next to his, but his eyes…they cut deep into her body and made her want to cry.

There was no longer a clear gold. Only clear green muddled with pain and desperation and she hated those words more than she'd hated Alistair. The boy in front of her was not Dean, but all she could do was look down on him and hope that someone felt it when she silently screamed that she was there for them. Always.

"That's our brother," Sam responded softly.


	113. Chapter 113

**Hi, I felt like writing this today, so you should love me by reviewing. ^.^**

**-Han**

"Wait a minute. Your brother?" Bobby asked, shock coloring his gruff voice. "Adam?" he asked.

Kat looked up, her eyes wide and blue and, Dean thought, hurt. His mind was alive with curses and fear as she met his eyes finally. Beyond that there was a sort of raw understanding, the kind you force yourself to feel when you want to be the victim. The kind you make yourself remember so no one gets hurt.

He pulled her deftly to his side, wrapping a loose arm around her shoulders and bending his body to lean his head against hers. She sighed slowly, relaxing slowly into his body and allowing a small smile to grace her lips.

He tried to send her his thanks, but he was worried it would get lost in translation. His body was still urging for him to leave, to find Michael and be taken, body and soul. But his heart belonged with her, even if it did sound like a romance novel.

"Cas, what the hell?" Dean asked hollowly, because he knew the man would understand what he was asking.

"Angels," Cas responded evenly, never looking away from the blonde boy on the cot.  
>"Angels? Why?" Sam asked in confusion.<p>

"And why were they guarding him?" Kat added, still encased in Dean's arms. She was lying to herself, fooling herself into thinking that this small morsel of affection meant he had changed his mind.

"I know one thing for sure, we need to hide him. Now," Cas said stiffly. He walked forward, pressed the palm of his hand to Adam's ribcage and closing his eyes.

Kat watched the Grace shoot down Castiel's arm and wondered if she'd ever be able to do that. When Adam's back arched off the cot, Kat felt her heart twinge in sympathy. She knew the feeling of such pain, and something in her broke to see another live it.

Castiel stepped back, his shoulders drooping and his eyes half-lidded in exhaustion. The boy sat up, and Kat instinctively moved backwards, shielding herself behind Dean as his initial reaction to her played through her mind.

Sin. Wrong. Evil. The words played through her mind until she wondered if her head would burst and the only way to eradicate them was to stay close to Dean. She closed her eyes when she heard Adam's deep voice ask where he was. It was not as hoarse as it was just out of the ground, when he was slurring prayers of salvation.

Sam was trying to calm him down, and he was succumbing because Sam was just like that. All he had to do was let his face droop into the puppy look and you were dead. Kat allowed herself a smile as she imagined the boys face trained on Sam's.

"Who the hell are you?" he asked harshly and she cringed, thinking he was talking to her. But then Dean spoke, still sounding as hollow as before, mixed with a forced bit of life. As if he was making himself feel.

"…we're actually your brothers," Dean was explaining, sounding as confused as Kat knew she felt. But Dean had known about this beforehand. But knowing the man, she assumed he'd never really dealt with it. Gotten past it. Probably even found a way to blame himself for his death.

"It's the truth. John Winchester was our father, too. See, I'm Sam—" Sam picked up where Dean left off, talking in earnest that made Kat think Adam's expression must not have been motivating.

"Yeah, and I'm sure that's Dean. I know who you are," Adam said derisively. The coldness in his voice made Kat shudder.

"How?" Sam asked slowly, as if afraid of the answer.

"They warned me about you," he said stiffly, looking as if he would stand up. He stopped dead, his eyes widening and his mouth slightly open. "They told me about _her_ too."

"Who?" Dean asked firmly.

"The angels told me about that…that thing, you've been working with. Where is she?" he asked coldly. She shivered behind Dean and stepped out from behind him.

"What?" she asked coldly, feeling the façade of hunter wash over her body. "You know, whatever it is, I really don't want to hear it," she said coldly.

"Zachariah told me all about you," he said haughtily, the fierce light prominent in his blue eyes. "I know what you are."

"Funny," Kat said, walking closer to him. "So do I. But you know something? You don't know who I am, and I'd bet you my immortal soul, that they left out the parts that make me good."

"I doubt that," he said sarcastically. Dean stepped forward, a light returning to his eyes and his jaw clamped shut tightly.

"You watch what you say. She's been through more than you could dream," he growled. Kat put a restraining hand on his shoulder. "Fine, whatever. Why don't you just, start from the beginning?" he asked slowly, as if trying to restrain himself. Kat nodded her appreciation and took a seat near Cas.

"Well, I was dead and in Heaven. 'Cept it—it uh, kinda looked like my prom and I was making out with this girl, her name was Kristin McGee—" he said with a slight grin.

"Yeah, that sounds like heaven. Did you get to third base?" Dean asked, ever the player. Kat smiled at him, something understanding and soft that Adam didn't think matched the angels description of her.

"Just uh, just keep going," Sam said softly.

"Well, these…these angels, they popped out of nowhere, and they tell me that I—I'm chosen," Adam said quietly. Kat had to resist the urge to snort as he said it. The Chosen One was sitting next to her, his face just as hollow and broken.

She tuned out of the conversation, seeing the way it was going. She'd met Zachariah only once and understood the game already. Adam was being played, hard. For a moment she felt bad for him, then remembered the look in Dean's eyes when she and Sam found him, taping up a cardboard box. She had taken it back to the house with her, but hadn't opened it.

She was almost certain that he would have written goodbyes; it was so very 'Dean', making sure that everyone would be okay. She wasn't sure if she could bring herself to read it, too afraid of what it would say. 'I love you like a sister,' kept floating to the forefront of her mind and it made her want to shiver in disgust.

She would hate for those to be the last words she knew him to think.

"Well, that's insane," Dean was saying, as Adam explained how _he_ was Michael's vessel, not Dean. Kat nodded her agreement absently, still lost in thought.

"Not necessarily," Castiel said solemnly.

"How do you mean?" Dean asked slowly, trying to understand. Kat simply sighed, her body deflating slowly as she let out the air.

"Maybe they're moving on from you, Dean," He said slowly. Kat hung her head, the idea so terrible and wonderful at the same time. Terrible because now they had Adam to worry about, as a flight risk. And Kat knew, knew deep down, that it should be Dean that saved the world. No one else. It would have to be Dean who set things off.

Wonderful. Dean wouldn't be taken away from her, wouldn't be ripped from her fingers when she was just finding purchase on that brown leather coat. She paused her thinking; he wasn't wearing it. Her eyes slid closed in denial as she realized that he really was going to go through with it, really was going to give himself over. The pain in her chest became almost intolerable.

While she was trying to pull herself together, Cas was talking about John's bloodline and angels settling for imperfection by choosing Adam.

Denial from the brothers, as was natural. It was supposed to be them against the world. No one else was meant to be dragged in and Kat thought if they knew what they did now, when they met her, they would have never even walked into that bar, so long ago.

"Maybe they're desperate. Maybe they _wrongly_ assumed Dean would be brave enough to withstand them," Cas said in his own kind of dry, barren disappointment. Kat cringed from the words, trying to push off her own feelings.

"Alright, you know what? Blow me, Cas," Dean quipped.

Kat had to fight back the rush of demented giggles threatening to break free, her body shuddering silently while everyone stared at her. She thought she was finally losing it, and it was perfectly all right with her. As long as the in-between period of sanity and insanity passed quickly.

Sam sent her a warning look, one that said he knew exactly what she was thinking and turned back to his younger brother. Kat shook her head, the idea of Sam behind anything less than the young one was simply wrong. Sam was the little one between the two and Kat was just the add on that happened to be younger than both. Though she hardly felt she acted it.

And now there was another and she'd never dealt well with new people. Especially not ones who thought she was a mutant.


	114. Chapter 114

"This doesn't make any sense. Angels aren't the type to accept fallback plans," Kat pointed out, looking up from staring at nothing and making eye contact with Castiel. He nodded slowly, running with her train of thought for a moment.

"Man, the angels are _lying _to you," Sam said imploringly, as Adam made another move to run, his blue eyes wide and shifty. Kat thought she could watch his muscles tense and un-tense like he was on the last question of a million dollar game show. And he didn't know the answer.

"I don't think so," Adam replied with snort, his young face crinkling into mock-laughter. Kat felt like her blood was surging through her veins and she should just slam the handle of her pistol over his head and stop the trouble now.

"Right. Why not?" Sam asked, frustration beginning to seep into his eyes.

"Uh, cause they're _angels_," Adam said, as if that explained it all.

"And they all have fluffy wings and play harps?" Kat asked, an eyebrow raised. "You forget who they are. They're not there to grant wishes and promote world peace. They're warriors of God, and by no means have love of humans," she tried to explain.

"They tell you they were going to roast half the planet?" Sam asked slowly, his body becoming that empathetic brotherly guidance counselor Dean and Kat had almost grown accustomed to.

"They said the fight might get pretty hairy, but it's the devil right?" Adam said, as if he had all the answers and Kat wondered if this was how a parent felt when they dealt with a teenager.

"How about the possibility, just think for a minute, that the 'heaven on Earth' they'll create, will be their kinda heaven, not ours. They hate humans, Adam. And God's on vacation. They got the means and the time and the lack of permission to finally show us who's God's favorite," Kat said strongly, her eyes shifting to Castiel for a moment. The angel sighed and nodded solemnly, as if he had not wanted to admit it.

"Like the HalfBreed knows anything," he snorted.

"This argument is getting old real fast, kid," she said tiredly. If it wasn't bad enough that Lucifer had called her that, now a kid? A child?

It made her feel both old and impossibly young and fragile at the same time.

"Adam," Sam said strongly, pulling him back into the conversation. "There's another way."

"Oh yeah, what?"

"We're working on the 'power of love'," Dean said tiredly, his eyes still trained on Kat, who felt herself grow warm at the word.

"How's that going," Adam asked sarcastically.

"Mm, not good."

"Look," Sam started, his shoulders tense and his breathing coming out slow and steady and forced. "You don't know me from a hole in the wall, but I'm begging. Please, give us some time. Trust us."

"Give me one good reason."

"We're blood," Sam said softly. Kat closed her eyes, knowing that that was the answer to it all. Everything they did they did for blood.

She was no longer surprised.

"You've got no right to say that to me," Adam spat and she thought she was having a heart attack. Maybe he wasn't a Winchester.

"You're still John's boy," Bobby pointed out gruffly. Kat looked over her shoulder, as if remembering he was there.

"No, John Winchester was some guy who took me to a baseball game once a year. I don't have a dad. So we may be blood, but we are not family. My mom is my family. And if I do my job, I get to see her again. So no offense, but she's the one I give a rat's ass about, not you," Adam said harshly.

"Oh would you just shut up?" Kat said suddenly, pushing herself away from her position and staring at the boy before her. "You had time with both of your parents, light-years more than I did. Trust me, you child, if I could help my family, if I could bring back my sisters or my mother or anyone, I would do it. But that's not the way things work, and you have to pick between _what's right, and what's easy,"_ she spat at the boy in front of her.

Dean put a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back into his chest. His breathing was steady and her eyes slipped closed. Her wings felt caged, held together and pinned down. She wanted to fly and run and escape.

But she couldn't.

Xx

"Going somewhere?" Sam asked calmly as Adam walked for the kitchen door. Kat was just behind Sam, intent on a beer and a night in the salvage yard, since she was not on lockdown.

She ignored Adam talking back to Sam as if he were no more than a child talking to a parent. She could feel the intensity in the room shift as Sam began talking about how their father was protecting Adam. Which was more truth than she could bear.

"Really. You see, it was me and it was my mom. That's it. She worked the graveyard shift at the hospital. I cooked my own dinners. I put myself to bed. So you can say whatever you want about our dad, but the truth is, I would have taken anything," Adam was saying belligerently sticking his nose in the air.

"Really?" Kat questioned from her position at the fridge. "Would you have taken sleepless nights in the back of a car, driving endlessly to nowhere? Would you have taken week after week of being ripped out of your friends and your school to join another one? Would you have taken a knife and a gun before you could count to twenty? Would you have taken soul responsibility to save the day and protect your family? Would you have taken your mother, burning to a crisp on the ceiling and the dark insanity creeping into your father's eyes?" Kat asked, her eyes burning with fury as she felt Dean's past pouring out of her.

"Like you know anything about that," Adam snorted, but she could see him becoming worried.

"You're right," she said softly. "I knew of pain and agony, and forced smiles to let my baby sister know I was okay. I knew torture and demons and possession and how it worked. I knew rape, and fear, and heat, and desperation," she whispered, her fingers tracing scars across her arms. "But I wouldn't expect you to understand."


	115. Chapter 115

**Hey, I wanted to write something for you guys, and I don't know how I feel about this chapter, but I'll work on the next chapter soon. Expect it by the end of this week. Love you guys!**

**-Han**

Kat wandered slowly down the panic room, remembering the last time she'd been there, when that thing inside of herself was locked away and foreign. Now her Grace was blended into her being as much as her blood was, though not as easy to reach. Her eyes traced the metal door and sighed, she knew Dean was on the other side.

Her heart beat in her ears, the thought of him just beyond reach. Cas was watching him, making sure he didn't turn himself over to Michael. Making sure he stayed with them.

She pushed the door open slowly, her fingers brushing cool metal and sighing to herself. Her head rose, her blue eyes shifting around the room to land on Castiel.

"Why don't you go watch Adam with Sam?" she asked by way of greeting. The angel gave her a level look, their matching eyes boring into each other. He nodded slowly, moving past her and allowing her the room alone with Dean.

"Is this really necessary?" Dean asked in exasperation as she leant against a wall. Her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes on his levelly.

"It wouldn't be if we could trust you," she said softly, watching him scowl at the floor. "You can't keep doing this, man. We'll find a way to end it."

"Not fast enough. I'm not going to stand by while Lucifer has his way with the world," he said darkly, coming to sit heavily on the cot in the center of the room.

"Do you remember the last time we were in here together?" she asked suddenly, remembering the silver light in her mind and in her eyes and the way her wings expanded.

Dean shivered, remembering how scared he had been. The fear pumping through his system until he thought he would explode. He nodded slowly.

She moved closer to him, her arms at her sides. She remembered her struggle against her Grace, and how Dean's voice and pulled her back. Had made her whole. "There's no way we both went through something like that to give up now. Think about all that we've accomplished, everything we've done for our cause," she whispered. "We can win, Dean. I know we can."

"Yeah," Dean snorted, his green eyes locked on the floor. "How's that?"

Kat was silent for a moment, and her shoulders sagged for a moment. "What about the rings? We have to run with that, we only have one horsemen to go!"

"And then what? Do we just ask the Devil to jump in the pit?" Dean asked sarcastically.

Kat was silent. "Well, what about my athame? I think it has enough power to at least hold onto him for a few seconds," she said, looking hopeful.

"There's no way we can guarantee for it to hold long enough," Dean said with a sigh. "There's the possibility of him becoming corporeal, and then we'd be way passed screwed."

"Well, give us some time," Kat said softly, moving to sit next to him. "Don't just end it before we can set up something. I don't want to lose you," she whispered.

"What was it you said? 'I may not always be there but I'll never really leave'?" he asked, looking up at her finally. His green eyes were rimmed red and his hands were shaking.

"That doesn't take the pain away," she whispered, her blue eyes wide and careful. "Just…don't, don't give up on all of us just yet," she whispered, making to walk out of the room. "Why do you even want to?"

"I don't know," he whispered. "I'm tired, okay? And I…I just don't believe anymore."

"In what?" she asked carefully, afraid of the answer.

"In anything. In Sam, in me," he said, struggling to find the words. "I mean, Sam, he's self-righteous, he's angry. Lucifer's gonna wear him to the prom. And-and that kid isn't going to be the one to stop him. I'm not letting him take a bullet for me," he muttered.

"Batman," she whispered softly, her eyes tracing his form. "You have to have faith in him. After everything, after heaven. There's no way he would…never," she struggled, her mind being forced back to the time she spent dead. Was it really only a few days ago? She wiped her eyes. "And what about me? I won't leave, I'll still be here," she whispered.

"It's not about you," Dean said, waving his hand dismissively. Kat looked up, her eyes wide. She knew Dean had meant it differently, but all she heard was the infallible brothers, side by side, no room for another.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, her wings unconsciously drooping on the floor. She knew Dean couldn't see them, but wondered how he would react to seeing them so broken on the floor. He still didn't know how she could find him anywhere, that strange, soul-deep connection that bridged them. What had Lucifer said?

'Two broken souls trying to latch on to each other.'

That sounded about right to her.

Dean was silent, lost in his own world. She stood up, her eyes on the ground. Her wings spread slowly. She thought about saying something, something that would hint at how much she cared about him. But in the end, she just closed her eyes and let the wind carry her away.

Dean watched her go and wondered why he could never manage to say what he wanted. Why it was so difficult to work around his tongue and spit out 'I'm in love with you'. He didn't know why it was so hard to explain that it wasn't about her because she was his one constant. _She _would never leave him or hurt him or dissolve into the nothingness of Hell, because she was Kat. She was strong and if she wasn't then he would protect her. He would do the same to Sammy, his Sammy. But now his brother was loose and away and harder to reach and Dean knew he needed to accept that he couldn't control him anymore. Couldn't protect him.

But he would do everything he could to protect her. He was latching on to someone he could look after and he kept fucking it up in the process. Maybe it was better that way. Maybe that way she would be safe from him and his own destruction.

He sighed, and wondered if his brother would come down to talk to him next. Another heart to heart, forced conversation and reluctant confessions. They were drawing closer to an inevitable end and Dean knew it at surely as he knew he wouldn't survive if it meant Sam wouldn't. If it meant Kat wouldn't.

He remembered his father and the way he would tell him to look after Sammy. What would he say if he was around now? If he could see how Dean had failed, and been given chance over chance and failed again.

His father would be ashamed.

His head rose slowly, his green eyes clear and sharply outlined in the grey room. He would do something good, something worth it. He would do something that would make his father proud. He'd protect the other two sons, and the girl he'd saved. He'd protect them all.

He looked around himself, and stood, his chest rising and falling steadily. He turned, and went to work, drawing the sigil on the back of the door in his own blood, his small pocket knife digging into his palm. When he was done, he turned, and flipped his bed over quickly, sending the cot crashing to the floor.

He heard Cas call him, rush in the door.

"Cas," he said softly, forlornly. "Look after her," he whispered. The angel's blue eyes widened as Dean's hand smashed against the sigil, blood and white light mixing to drive the angel away. Castiel screams filled the panic room, and Dean slipped out silently, praying the angel would listen to him.

Guilt and desperation pumped through his veins and he ran, ran to where he didn't even know. He took his car and drove, aware of only the asphault in front of him and the occasional street lamp to guide him along. Heneeded to find a city big enough to house one of those apocalypse hobo's. The ones with the bibles up high and the theories on the end of the world. He had to drive and get away and find one, and take Michael. He had to say yes.

To keep his family safe.


	116. Chapter 116

**Figured I'd give you another, so please please please review. I know it's been a while, but I have a lot going on right now, and I'm trying really hard. I promise to update tomorrow twice, and then I'll finish this episode on Saturday, and hopefully give you one or two more on Sunday. I love you guys, so much!**

**-Han**

Kat arrived back at the house only an hour later with a feeling of dread pooling in her stomach. She sagged against the kitchen counter, her wings dragging on the ground, her scars pulling uncomfortably. She'd been flying too much lately.

"Where's Cas?" she asked softly, looking up at Sam. He blinked, trying to associate her sudden reappearance with the faint shadows of wings that still seemed foreign to him.

"Blown to Oz," he answered dully, hopelessness lined in his face. Bobby grunted from his chair, casting a look back at a sleeping Adam.

"Fuck," Kat said softly. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have left him alone."

"Not your fault," Sam muttered. "This has been just as hard on you as all of us."

Kat said nothing, surprised that he even noticed she'd been struggling at all. She looked down slightly, and wondered if she went after him, and found him, if he would stay. If she said she loved him, would he stop trying to end his life.

She lowered her head, cursing herself and her weakness.

"I have to find him," she said softly. "Maybe if I, I tell him…maybe he won't…" she trailed off, hating every fiber of her own being for being this weak. Where had the hunter in her gone? The one who could handle anything?

"Tell him what?" Sam asked, looking up at her with large innocent eyes. She looked at him and sighed.

"It probably won't matter anyway. Nothing I say can stop him," she whispered, but Sam heard her anyway.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "He cares about you."

"Yeah, great. That stands up to the infallible brothers," she snorted. She pushed herself off the counter and ground her teeth together. "You guys against the world, right?" she asked, pulling from the conversation in heaven.

"You…you heard that?" Sam asked. Kat turned to him, her eyes deceptively blank.

"I was there," she said softly. "It's fine though. It's the way it's supposed to be."

"No, Kat, you're our family," he said softly. She nodded, her head jerking up and down sharply.

"Family. Right."

How would she tell Sam that she didn't want to be family? How could she tell him that she wanted to be held by Dean the way a lover would, that she wanted to be loved and to love back? She couldn't find the words.

"Go find him. Bring him back," she said, looking at him steadily.

"I will."

Xx

Dean tromped up and down the streets of whatever town he'd ended up in. He stopped at the sight of a dirty old man with a cardboard sign, proclaiming the end was near. He smiled, his hollow eyes glinting slightly.

"The end is nigh! The apocalypse is upon us! The angels talk to me, and they asked me to talk to you! The apocalypse-" Dean cut off the dirty man with a hearty smile that was as fake as a three dollar bill in his book.

"Hey!" he said, standing before the man. "My name's Dean Winchester. You know who I am?" he asked, barely hidden excitement in his eyes. He needed this. He wanted this.

"Dear God," the man answered, shock in his eyes and something like awe Dean wasn't used to getting.

"I'll take that as a yes," Dean said in an almost chipper voice. "Listen, I need you to pray to your angel buddies and let them know that I'm here," he said as amiably as he could.

The man dropped to his knees without question, his shins hitting the sidewalk with a slightly thump and his hands folding quickly. His eyes closed and his lips parted and Dean felt a bit like a God must, for only a moment.

"Our father, who art in Heaven, hallowed be thy name-" the quick flow of assured words was halted by the sound of wings and Dean let curses flow through his mind as he caught a glimpse of a trench coat in his peripheral vision.

"You pray too loud," Castiel said in his gruff voice, touching two fingers to the man's head and letting him fall to the pavement below him. Without a pause, he grabbed Dean, dragging him harshly into an alley. Dean could feel his bones cracking and a bruise forming along his spin as Cas threw him against a brick wall. The air was driven from his lungs, his eyes glazed from the pain.

Cas was throwing punches before he could recover, his fist like diamond or steel or some other immeasurably hard metal. Dean could feel his jaw swelling and blood pooling in his mouth with each slamming contact. He doubled over in pain, Castiel driving punches into his stomach and everywhere else he could reach, the fury and pain behind the punches almost as gut-wrenching as the pain on the other end.

Castiel's mind burned and was on fire and he hated it, and he remembered being so unaffected in heaven and wondered how any human could stand to live. The pain was too great. So he took it out on Dean.

"Are you crazy?" Dean managed to ask, after spitting out blood and trying to defend himself. Castiel knocked his hands out of the way, driving another punch into his ribs.

"I rebelled for this? So t rebelled for this? So that you could surrender to them? "He demanded, his eyes shot with silver as his volatile Grace kicked into over drive and everything he'd lost was poured through his long memory. He could hear Dean begging, saying please on repeat and he knew he was going too far, but the angel couldn't stop. "After what I've done for you? I've given you everything! Kat's given you everything! After what you put my daughter through, after everything, _this _is what you give us?"

Punches rained down on Dean until he couldn't really feel them anymore but he could feel blackness on the edges of his vision and that was enough. That desperation was back, pushing him, gripping him by the soul and begging him for to end everything.

He heard the angel say Kat's name and knew he was right. After everything they had been through together, the three of them, how could he? He was failing them, and it was better if he tore himself from the world now.

"Do it Cas," he shouted, gripping the edges of Castiel's trench coat. "Please."

Castiel thought that for the first time, water might fall from his eyes the way it occasionally fell from his daughters and from Dean's and from Sam's. It had never happened to Bobby, but that was another matter entirely. He thought he may actually have to suck back tears to hold himself together. The angel felt himself breaking for the first time, and he wanted to hide himself away.

His body emitted a sigh that was not nearly as compliant with his raging thoughts as the angel would have liked, but it was the best he could do in this form. He reached out to the shaking and desperate hunter before him and touched two fingers to his forehead. Dean collapsed into his guardian's arms and the angel wished things were just that simple again.

He winked out of existence, tempted to fly somewhere further than the Salvage Yard. He was tempted to revisit the Rockies and watch the world as if he was still on his perch in heaven. But he could not.


	117. Chapter 117

Kat would be lying if she said she watched Adam. She left that to Bobby after awkwardly telling him that she loved him, and that she would be outside. He nodded tiredly, returning the love and asking her to not destroy any of the decent models.

She had tried to laugh and had walked outside, wondering if she should return to the rocky ocean coastline she'd visited after her conversation with Dean, where she'd sat on a jetty in the middle of a storm, her hair sopping and her eyes struggling to remain dry around the rain and spray of the waves.

Coming back had made her body dry again, and there was no evidence she'd been anywhere else. She stretched her wings experimentally, but decided she didn't have the energy to revisit that spot.

Instead she wandered the deserted car lot and thought about how the world would never be like it was the day they met, when the possibility of winning was still there. Now her heart was weak and her hands were shaking and every breath she took made her die a little more inside and every tear she shed made her hate herself all the more for being weak enough to fall and weak enough to care.

And she was too broken by the bitterness of loneliness to ever see the people who cared about her and all she could think about was the way Dean and Sam loved each other more than air and how she didn't have a place. Dean would never care about her that much, and she knew it, and she'd thought she'd accepted it. But the more she heard it and the more she thought about it, the more she thought her heart would break and her soul would split, because she wanted to be loved.

She remembered when she didn't really feel, she remembered when Blake told her he loved her and she didn't care. She remembered when a brush of his skin made her sick and ever sweet word reminded her of Alistair and his cruelty. Now, she would force herself to think about it, just so she would never forget the way it felt to live in such pain.

And even though this world she loved, the world where she rested in the back seat of the Impala and laughter floated between the three of them, even though it would never be the same, she would stick to it and she would suck it up and pretend she fit perfectly between the brothers.

She would pretend that every time they talked without speaking and oriented themselves around each other, that she was included, because she would lose her mind if she didn't. She would crumble if she didn't.  
>She sighed, leaning against an old Ford truck and running a hand through her hair like she did when she felt hopeless. She wondered distractedly what it would have been like for her if she'd done what John had asked her to in the hospital the first time they talked.<p>

_"Stay with Bobby for a few weeks, we'll find you a good place to live. You and your brother can go to school. You can live a real life," John implored, looking at the half-alive girl before him. When he'd found her, her hand outstretched for his car and her body crumpled on the ground, he'd hoped he could save this one. He had hoped that she wouldn't choose this life._

_ But she had looked at him evenly, a kind of dead stare that frightened him and told him quietly, softly, "This isn't a choice."_

_ He thought that was why he got along with her so well._

She wondered how hard it would have been for her to learn and adjust, who she would have told about her past. Would she have met a boy, fallen in love? Lived happily ever after?

A choked laugh rose from her chest at just the thought. She probably would have ended up in a padded room. Truthfully, she couldn't imagine herself anywhere other than right where she was, a gun at her side and on the brink of depression and insanity.

She shook her head, a sad smile on her face, before she looked up at the black sky and laughed to herself. She was more insane than she thought she was.

The smile froze on her face, and her wings fluttered oddly, her mind suddenly buzzing with voices she could only identify as angels and she felt a soul being moved. It was like she was feeling a disturbance in the force. She cursed, reaching for her Grace and appearing in the living room, a gun that would do nothing raised high. The empty cot caught her eye and she lowered her weapon, her chest rose and fell as the voices began to trickle out of her mind. She pressed a palm to her forehead, wincing as the screaming Enochian blocked her thoughts so close to where Adam had been a moment before.

"Angels need to learn to shut the fuck up," she hissed, rubbing her temples, and looking back at a shell-shocked Bobby. He was staring blankly at the empty cot, trying to decide what to do. Kat nodded to herself, and went into the kitchen, picking a phone from the line at random and dialing Sam's number. She spoke quickly and softly, asking him to turn around. Adam was gone.

Sam was in the front door only ten minutes later, his eyes wide and his broad shoulders straight with the prospect of danger. Bobby was still sitting in the living room, now looking pissed more than anything, his trucker cap shading his eyes ominously. Kat was leaning against the threshold, her fingers fiddling with the edges of her leather jacket.

"What do you mean, he's gone?" Sam asked, something close to accusation in his voice. Bobby lifted his head and glared at the younger man.

"Should we say it in Spanish?" Bobby asked sarcastically.

" Gone _how?" _Sam rephrased, annoyance and frustration creeping into his voice. Bobby gave him a hard look, reminding him who was dominant. Kat thought it was a male thing.

"Watch your tone, boy. He was right in front of me, and he disappeared into thin air," Bobby said tersely.

"The angels took him," Kat said, coincidentally in sync with Castiel, who had flown into the room supporting a badly beaten and bleeding Dean. Before Kat was sure she was doing everything, she was hovering over him, her eyes wide and frenzied.

"Is he okay?" she asked, trying to control herself, and keep herself from hyperventilating. Castiel shrugged, laying him down on the cot. Dean's skin was bruised and bloodied and his eyes were closed. Everything about him made her think he was in pain, and she felt herself tracing the scrolling scars on her arm as she watched him breathe heavily in his unconscious state.

"What happened to him?" Sam asked, coming closer and leaning over his brother. His eyes cut to Kat, who was kneeling by the cot with her eyes closed. If he hadn't known her better, he would have thought she was praying.

"Me," Castiel said stiffly, his eyes still burning with betrayal and a hurt he was not used to. Kat looked up, her matching eyes searching his until she stood. He thought, for a moment, that she would hit him, the rolling emotions in her eyes too foreign to him.

She moved in front of him, her eyes never leaving his. She sighed, moving closer to him and hugging him loosely around the neck. "I understand," she whispered, and he wondered if Sam and Bobby could hear her. He heard the conviction in her voice and didn't doubt that she did, didn't doubt that she had thought of doing it herself.

"I believe you," he responded, his wide eyes trying to search hers and decipher the feeling there. She looked up at him, weariness prominent by the circles beneath her eyes and the way her clothes hung off of her, too loosely.

She pulled away, moving back to watch over Dean, standing just in front of him, like she was blocking him from the world.

"What do you mean the angels took him? You branded his ribs, didn't you?" Bobby asked, confusion and exhaustion playing on his face.

"He must have tipped them," Kat said softly, her eyes flickering over every bruise on the face of the hunter below her.

"How?" Sam asked, looking Kat to Castiel.

"I am not sure. Maybe in a dream," Castiel said softly, his eyes growing distant and he wondered for a moment what Kat dreamed about now, now that her nightmares didn't haunt her.

"Well where would they take him?" Sam asked, looking up, that look of a warrior back in place.

He heard the clink of chain, and turned to see that Kat had handcuffed Dean to the cot, her eyes hard and her mouth set in a firm line. He raised an eyebrow.

"We won't have time to save that little prick if we have to look for Dean," she grumbled.


	118. Chapter 118

**Hey! One more tonight, and this one is…emotional, but I'm proud of it. And I know I've been horrible with updating and blahblah, but I'd really really appreciate some reviews this time round. I love you guys so so so much, and I' m working on updating on a more regular basis.**

**-Han**

"How are you feeling?" Kat asked softly, watching him wake slowly on the cot. His eyes scrunched together, the cuts healed away by Castiel, but she guessed he kept the lingering pain as a warning. He winced, and she confirmed the theory. His green eyes opened and reached hers and she exhaled as if she had been waiting for it. Dean offered her a weak smile, one she would never admit she memorized and filed away.

"Word to the wise: don't piss off the nerd angels," he said groaning as he sat up. Kat smiled hollowly, the image of Castiel, violent in her head felt wrong, and right all at once. Acting as the warrior he was, against Dean? The mixing realities there were too much for her to understand. "So how's it going?" he asked, and she was brought back to Earth.

"Adam's gone," she said quietly, looking away from him. "The angels took him. Dean, I'm so sorry, I should have watched him closer," she began to ramble. Dean held up his hand, looking at her evenly.

"Where?" he asked, rubbing his temples in a circle, as if the action could solve his problems and make him whole again.

"Sam called it the Angel Greenroom. Said you'd been there before," she said, looking behind herself as Sam walked back into the room, looking tired.

"You sure?" Dean asked Sam, and Kat moved back, allowing the brothers a moment. Hers had passed.

"Yeah, Cas did a recon," Sam said seriously, preparing to lay out plans and strategies and Kat would go along with them and try her best to play whatever role they tacked on for her to play. Because really, they made plans to work around the two of them and she was baggage.

"It's your average no-shot-in-hell type gig," Sam was saying, rubbing his hand over his face. His brain was racing ahead and he wondered how best to implement Kat. He knew she wasn't the fastest of them, but she was definitely the most nimble and resourceful. He imagined the scene in his head and paused. Adam could be hurt. He sighed, hating to resign her to medic, but having no other choice. Fact was, he enjoyed watching her in action, seeing her dodge or attack and strike was something like a dance.

"Ah, the usual," Deans said dryly, a hint of a grin on his face. "Whatcha gonna do?" he asked, his eyes flicking between his brother and the woman that was too far away for his liking.

"For starters, you're coming," Sam said calmly, unlocking his cuffs and helping his brother stand. Dean looked at him in something like shock, while Sam only shrugged. Kat looked away, feeling the oncoming brotherly moment arising.

"Isn't that a bad idea?" Dean asked slowly. Sam closed his eyes a moment and nodded slowly.

"Cas and Bobby think it is, I'm not so sure."

"And Kat?" Dean asked, looking at her slowly, almost anxiously. She didn't answer, only nodded at Sam, and Dean looked back at his brother and continued. "Well, they're right. Because either it's a trap to get me there to make me say yes, or it's not a trap and I'm gonna say yes anyway. And I will. I'll do it. Fair warning," he said with such conviction, she felt herself doubt her choice.

"No, you won't. When push shoves, you'll make the right call," Sam insisted, reminding her why she made the case for him in the first place, after chaining him to the bed herself.

"You know, if tables were turned…I'd let you rot in here. Hell, I _have_ let you rot in here," Dean said softly, something like shame creeping into his eyes until they were clouded and you couldn't see the gold flecks anymore.

"Well, I guess I'm not that smart," Sam said with a shrug. Kat smiled, looking at the floor and wondering if she could ever have something like that with her own brother, wherever he was.

"I—I don't get it. Sam, why are you doing this?" Dean asked, looking up at his younger brother as if for once he held the answers to the world and Dean didn't. As if Dean was the one that had to be protected.

"Because… you're still my big brother," Sam said softly. Kat choked on her breath for a moment, swallowing slowly and running a hand through her hair. She felt like an intruder, gazing upon this private moment and having no part.

Dean stood, slowly, his spin cracking slightly as he did. He glanced at Kat, his eyes soft, and wanting, but she couldn't see that. "Kat?" he asked again.

She turned to him slowly, her eyes meeting his and he thought they looked deep enough to fall in. She smiled, a soft thing that made him think of stars and full moons and those nights he was alone with his car in the middle of a field in Kansas. Those soul-deep nights when he thought that the wind might have a color and his heart might not be as crass as he tried to make himself believe.

"Because, Batman," she said softly, moving closer to him. "Because one night you came to take me home, and you promised you wouldn't hurt me again," she whispered, remembering the way he held her and sang Guns 'N Roses in her ear, remembering the way they danced and swayed and she had clung to him and had almost broken. "And I believed you."


	119. Chapter 119

**If I don't get at least five reviews I will with-hold the next chapter for a while. heeheehee, I love you guys, but reviews make my life. ^_^**

**-Han**

"Where are we?" Kat asked, looking around the broken bottles and cracked asphalt and the ramshackle warehouse. Her wings ruffled uncomfortable as a singing clarity entered her mind. She could feel the angels inside, could practically see their encompassing lights and could feel the beat of their wings against her face. She turned back to Cas, her eyes wide.

"Van Nuys, California," Castiel responded, his eyes hard on hers and nodding, confirmation of what she was feeling.

"Where's the beautiful room?" Dean asked, looking around the desolate town and remembering everything about it and finding himself wondering why here of all places?

"In there," Cas said numbly, his eyes growing harder as he began preparing himself for the fight ahead. He tilted his head towards the closest warehouse.

"The beautiful room is in an abandoned muffler factory in Van Nuys, California?" Dean asked blankly, confusion evident in his bright green eyes. Kat let the ghost of a smile cross her face at the comedy of it, but couldn't seem to muster a laugh.

"Where did you think it was?" Castiel asked, that same blank stare he'd been giving the hunter since he found him on that near empty street.

"I don't know…Jupiter? A blade of grass? Not Van Nauys," Dean rambled, still looking around them. Sam looked up at the blue-eyed angel, a hint of anxiety and confusion swirling in his eyes.

"Tell me again why you don't just grab Adam and shazam the hell out of there?" Sam asked, his fingers itching to do something to help Adam. He'd promised.

"There are at least five angels in there," Kat said, cracking her neck and fingering the knife at her hip.

"So what? He's fast," Dean said, indicating Castiel. Kat eyes shifted to the warrior next to her and had no doubt her father could do anything he had to.

"They're faster," he grunted, taking off his tie and wrapping it around his palm.

"You're going to take on five angels?" Kat asked, her eyes widening. "Let me help you. I can help you," she struggled to get out.

"No," he said quickly, feeling rushing back into his blue eyes until he could be mistaken for a person, the depth of his worry for her surpassing the capability of angel. "Stay with Sam and Dean." She noticed how she said Sam first. She noticed how he would have said something about them being able to protect her.

"I don't need protecting, Cas. And this is a suicide mission," she finished in a whisper.

Dean wondered if this was how it looked from the outside when she worried over him. The fervor in her eyes was something he could almost admire, and something that he remembered from hunts with his father, when John would tell him to stick with Sam and leave himself vulnerable.

"It may be, which is why you will not assist," he said gravely. "Go in with them, get the boy out before they call Michael. It's our only chance."

Kat was silent, watching Castiel pull a box cutter from his trench coat and realizing what he would do. She ran a hand through her hair and eyed his chest, imagining the image that would be carved there in only a few minutes. "That's gonna hurt, Cas," she said softly.

"I am aware," he said softly. Kat sighed, her eyes matching his in numbness as she slipped into hunter mode. She nodded, solemnly, slowly, and gave him a sad smile.

"If you live, I'll have to make victory pie," she said softly.

"It won't be much of a victory," he said lightly, and Dean thought it sounded almost like he was joking with her. "Can it be apple?" he asked, his head tilting to the side.

"Yeah, Cas, anything you want," she said, looking at him slowly. "Be careful in there," she said softly.

He nodded, looking more adult than any of them had ever seen, looking like a father, almost.

Xx

Sam led the way into the warehouse a few minutes later, when they could tell the white light had faded from inside. When they could tell the angels and Castiel had been blown away by the mark on Castiel's chest. Bloody ripped open skin tearing angels away from reality, pulled by their wings away.

He looked back and sent an encouraging sort of smile to Kat, as if to say that Cas would be alright. Kat attempted a smile back, looking around the near barren warehouse with trepidation. The body of one angel lay strewn to the side, the imprint of his wings burned into the ground. She could faintly smell the burned feathers and ashes.

The cement blocked structure stood in the center of the warehouse, looking more like a war room than an angel green room. Kat could only imagine the disgusting things the structure originally held. They walked quickly, Dean leading the way, overtaking Sam, with a fire in his eyes for the first time since they'd died.

Family, one thing that could push Dean to do anything, to feel anything. Maybe not love, maybe not obligation to the world, but family could get him on his knees and praying if he had to. He'd die again for family, just as quickly as he had the first time.

He wondered, briefly, if he would do the same for Kat. His heart told him yes, and his soul questioned him. The truth, he thought, was that he would do everything he could for her, because she was family, just in a different way. But, she would never hold the same light as his baby brother, or his father, or his mother. He thought she knew that.

He felt like hitting himself, because that didn't mean he didn't love her. He loved her more than he could love any other woman. Family simply operated on a different level.

He sighed, deciding that if they survived, he would spend time with her again. Time without anxiety and fear and pain.

His hand gripped the handle to the room, his mind automatically switching back to war, back to saving his family. He pulled it open slowly, breathing deeply, his eyes snapping to the far wall, where Adam lay curled on his side.

He was aware that he was running, and that Kat was beside him. He dropped to his knees, his eyes flitting over everything and taking in that the room was just the same as last time, as opulent and rich.

Adam turned over, facing him, blue eyes staring back at him in something like shock. "Dean? You came for me?" he asked, his voice breaking slightly.

"You're family," he said, the conviction running so deep, Adam believed him. The boy's eyes widened, and he sat up slightly, fear shooting through his system.

"Dean, it's a trap!" he shouted, his head jerking to the side as he looked for Zachariah.

"We figured," Dean admitted, a cocky, devil may care smile on his lips. Kat couldn't help but adopt it, seeing her sarcastic, cocky hunter reappear. She felt her heart flutter in her chest, threatening to take off as a glimmer of his old self appeared, light in his eyes.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?" Zachariah asked from behind them, his pompous voice carrying easily through the room.

"_Did you?_" Dean asked, just before Sam launched himself at the angel from the entrance to the room, plunging an angel sword down towards the enemy. Kat cringed, her body curling inward as she watched Zachariah turn on a dime, knocking the sword away and throwing Sam against a wall. She heard Dean scream his name and felt her body pumping and pushing and forcing her to move for Sam. She got up, scrambling to reach him, her wings pointed behind her to avoid drag. He swished his hand, and her back collided with the edge of a painting, her left wing twisting weirdly in its socket. She bit back a scream, and tried to stand.

"Kat!" Dean screamed, ready to move towards her.

"Filth," Zachariah spat. He brushed his hands together, facing Dean with that same snarky smile that made Dean seriously contemplate suicide. "You know what I've learned from this experience, Dean? Patience," he said, waving his hand at Adam, who fell back to the ground, coughing up blood and curling in on himself. Kat's head jerked up at the sound and she began crawling towards him, numb fingers in her mind reaching for her Grace.

"Let him go you son of a bitch," Dean demanded, his face twisted into fury. He tried to send Kat a warning glance, to stay back, but she kept moving, and he could see flashes of a twisted wing.

Zachariah laughed, turning his hand in Sam's direction, ready to make him suffer like Adam was. Kat growled, low in her throat and twisted her body at the last moment, taking it for him. Zachariah shrugged, content with this, as Sam was still struggling to sit, much less stand.

Kat coughed, her chest aching as blood flowed from her lungs. She spit, hacking it onto the floor before dragging her body to Adam, slapping a hand to his shoulder and began to grab onto her Grace, fighting around the coughs and the pain and the blood.

She was aware that Zachariah was offering Dean to call Michael, and end it, and Sam was trying to stand up and she was coughing and so was Adam. She heard Dean's agonized cry for him to stop and felt her Grace snap into place.

Adam looked up around the blood in his lungs and wondered why she was touching him, it was clear both hated each other. He saw her eyes change, shooting from that startling sky blue to a clear sort of silver and it looked like she was only half there as she coughed again and speckled the floor with blood and moved her hand to his forehead.

His chest rose as he breathed deeply, that fiery pain from his lungs burned away and the blood no longer blocking his breathing. He exhaled, watching her slowly roll to her side and cough again, blood forming a small pool by her dusky lips.

"Call Michael down, you bastard! Just make it stop!" Dean shouted, his eyes never leaving Kat's nearly limp form. She coughed again, sitting up as much as she could, crying out as her bent wing brushed against the floor.

"No! Dean!" she screamed, scrambling to stop him. Adam stood up, watching the halfling before him writhe in pain and wondering how the angels could have never told him she was like this. Selfless.

The word did not fit with the image he had created for her in his mind.

"How do I know you're not lying?" Zachariah asked, looking searchingly at Dean. He gave the angel an imploring look as Sam finally stood and moved to Kat.

"Do I look like I'm lying?" Dean asked.

"_Zodiredo…noco…aberamage…nazodpesade… _He's coming," Zachariah informed them, the Enochian having fallen from his lips in a way Kat could understand. She wondered if she could speak that fluently, as she coughed again.

Sam stooped down to Kat, running a long hand across her cold forehead. She sent him an encouraging smile and he looked back at Dean, and the two locked eyes.

Dean looked into his little brother's eyes, imploring and scared and helpless, and he could feel that old light returning to his being. A grin fell onto his lips as he winked, the feeling rushing through his body and for the first time in a while, desperation was not accompanied by it.  
>"Of course, I have a few conditions," he said lightly, turning back to the pompous ass he was ready to annihilate.<p>

"What?" the angel asked, shock etched into his features and Dean wanted to see that face frozen in stone and keep it forever. He imagined it would give him a good laugh when he needed it.

"The few people whose safety you have to guarantee before I say yes," Dean said, in his logical, almost salesmen kind of way. Sam thought it was his 'cop voice'.

"Yeah sure, make a list," the angel responded, shrugging and preparing to welcome Michael.

"But most of all…Michael can't have me until he disintegrates you," he said with a grin. He was reminded of when he was taunting some cop in some city over some crime, when he called himself adorable. It was that sort of smile.

"What did you just say?" Zachariah asked, his body leaning forward as if he'd heard him wrong. The room was silent for a moment, accented by Kat's heavy breathing and occasional coughing. Adam was shifting his eyes between the woman who'd saved him and the brother who was playing the world.

"I said…before Michael gets one piece of this sweet ass…he has to turn you into a piece of charcoal," Dean said with another saucy grin. Kat choked a laugh, her body rocking back and forth slightly as she tried to breathe around the blood enough to spit out the giggles.

"That's…my-my Batman," she struggled to say, her breath coming out laboring and hard. Dean smiled at her, that heartbreaking real smile that let her know that it was all going to be okay.

"Shut it," the angel spat, moving back towards Dean. "You really think Michael's gonna go for that?"

"Who's more important to him now? You or me?" Dean asked, logic lacing his words. Making them more powerful.

"You listen to me. You are nothing but a maggot inside a worm's ass. Do you know who I am…after I deliver you to Michael?" Zachariah threatened.

"Expendable," Dean supplied, earning another mangled laugh from Kat.

"Michael's not gonna kill _me_," Zachariah said, assured. Dean shrugged, his eyes lighting up in that gleeful boyish way that let you know you were dead.

"Maybe not," he admitted, the grin still in place. "But _I _am."

And Dean was moving, an angel blade out and up and piercing through Zachariah's head until light was pouring out of it. Dean's face was right in front of it, his face morphed into hate and power and rage. He'd come between Dean and his family.

He stepped back, letting the blade slip form his lower jaw, the body falling back. Those black ashen wings printing the floor around him, the wingspan almost brushing Kat's hair, as she gasped in deep lungful's of air. She sat up, wiping her mouth and smiling at Dean, and he thought she was proud of him. She stood, with the help of Sam, who was watching her carefully.

"You didn't have to take the hit for me," he said softly, remembering the way the angel's hand had curved towards him and the way she had twisted in front of him.

"Yes I did," she said softly, the smile still in place.

Their peace was broken as light began to shin down from the chandelier, the loud screams of an angel breaking through their eardrums, and Kat heard words, demanding Dean and demanding war and demanding Lucifer and demanding law. She shrunk back, the sheer power of the words too much for her to bear.

They ran, the four of them pushing themselves towards the door, towards Van Nuys and towards freedom. Sam crossed the threshold first, and he turned to pull Dean through. Kat grabbed onto Adam's coat, her wings preparing to spread as they ran. Her bent wing protested and she knew there was no way she could fly.

The door slammed shut, a stunned Sam and Dean still on the outside. Kat collided with the wood, her fingers slipping for a doorknob that wasn't even there. She could feel Michael coming closer and she could feel the panic rising from both her and Adam as they both screamed for Dean and for Sam. Her wings tried again and again to spread, but the pain seemed like it was spreading, until her words were garbled and meant nothing.

Nothing mattered but the pain and the angel coming for them.


	120. Chapter 120

**I decided to go ahead and post this, and thanks a billion to the reviewers, you guys are the only thing keeping me posting this. –hinthint- Love you!**

**-Han**

Kat and Adam pushed against the door. The light was blinding and Kat's body radiated with pain. Her skin felt like it was on fire and her wings twisted painfully. Adam was shouting for Dean but Kat was just screaming. Raw, pain-filled screams. Michael was coming and it _hurt. _It hurt so bad. But Adam was still pounding against the door. He could hear Dean yell for him and he could hear the yelps of pain that escaped his older brother when he tried to touch the door. He knew he wouldn't be able to get through, but he shouted for his big brother anyway.

Kat collapsed, falling onto her knees, her hands flat on the ground to brace her. Her back twisted and snapped back and forth as her shadowed wings twisted unnaturally. She couldn't fly away. Exactly how Michael had planned. Then she saw Adam had stopped screaming for Dean. Why wasn't _she _screaming for Dean? Oh. Because it hurt so much she couldn't form words. But Adam had stopped and was looking into the light. His lips were parted in awe and his eyes were wide with a look of reverence in them. He stepped closer to it, and Kat's screams grew louder. Tears streamed down her pale face and somewhere she knew that words were being threaded through her screams. Words like _'Stop'_ and '_No_' and '_Please_'. But Adam wasn't listening. He turned, sending her something that might have been _'Thank you'. _But she couldn't be sure. The light grew immeasurably and the harsh ringing that Kat knew to be words, drowned out her screams.

Dean sucked in a terrified breath. Kat's screams had stopped and they did not start up again. The light had faded from the cinderblock room and he let a hesitant hand wrap around the doorknob. Adam had stopped beating against the door and the terrible ringing in his ears had stopped. He pushed the door open and let out a choked sort of breath.

The room was desolate and dark. The once perfectly structured walls and chandelier were gone. In their place were grey decaying walls and peeling paint. A thick layer of dust covered everything and the floor was littered with broken glass and bits and pieces of furniture.

In the center of the room was Kat. Her body was bowed in on itself, her knees on the floor and her hands bracing her on the ground. Dean could see the imprints of her wings. They were broken and twisted and he thought that they were bleeding. But shadows couldn't bleed, could they? He leaned down and knelt next to her, his fingers drawing the black hair away from her face. He searched for her eyes, but found them shut tightly. Her body was trembling and he could see the pain-filled tears rushed down her face.

"Sorry," she choked out. It took all of her concentration to say it and it sounded bitter to her. "M-Michael took h-him. Couldn't do a-anything."

Dean looked at Sam who was barely standing and watching them with sad eyes. He had not gotten to know Adam as well as he would have liked, but he was family. And family was the most important thing. Then there was Kat. He had never seen her in so much pain. If he wasn't afraid of Michael before, he sure as hell was now.

"Shh, It's okay, love. It's okay," he whispered softly.

He braced his arms under her knees and against her back and scooped her up. He watched her wings wink out and felt her body shudder with pain. He stood and Sam thought he looked like the hero that was left behind with a broken world. The one that stands against the odds and _wins_. And his brother had said no. He had had the chance to do what he wanted and he said _no_. He couldn't understand it.

But now wasn't the time. Kat had slumped against the warmth of Dean and fallen into unconsciousness. Sam helped her into the back seat of the Impala and was shocked to see his brother slide in beside her. Dean tossed him the keys and cradled Kat to his chest. Sam slipped into the drivers' seat and started the car.

He wasn't sure how much later it was that he finally asked Dean what had been on his mind. His big brother had barely shifted, keeping a firm grip on the small woman. But when he did ask it was hesitant. Really, he was afraid of the answer. But he asked anyway.

"Dean?" his voice was soft, to not wake her.

"Yea?"

"Why didn't you do it?" Even to Sam it sounded like a small child was asking the question.

"I don't know, man," he sighed. "I-I was going to do it. And I wasn't going to regret it. But then I looked at you. And I couldn't…I couldn't stand to disappoint you," Dean whispered. Kat stirred slightly, and rolled. She whimpered in pain, but stayed unconscious.

"I-I don't know what to say," Sam stuttered out. He had thought it was Kat who influenced him. He thought that Kat was the one who could get him to do the right thing. He thought his brother cared about her more.

"What do you mean?" Dean asked, noticing the sheer shock in his eyes.

"I-I thought it was Kat," he mumbled, but Dean heard him. He glanced in the mirror to see his brother's gaze flicker down to her. He saw the softness creep in, the gentleness. When he looked back at Sam the look was still there.

"You're my little brother, man," he said softly. Sam looked at him intently.

"But you love her, don't you," he pointed out. Dean stiffened, his muscles tensing and San was afraid he had pushed too far.

"I can't," he said forcefully. Sam blinked and cringed a little. "You know how we live and what we do. Look how many people have died around us! We might as well have pulled the trigger. If people we love die, than I can _not _love her. I won't."

"You deserve to be as happy as anyone else," Sam tried to persuade him.

"No. I don't."

The conviction in his voice silenced Sam and he thought that Dean was done talking. But his brother sighed and looked over the girl in his arms. She was fragile.

"She means a lot to me, Sammy. But you're still my baby brother." Sam knew that was Dean's way of assuring him that their familial bond overcame anything that Dean might feel for Kat. It was what they always did and both brothers knew that Kat understood. They were a family-first group. He might love Kat with his entire body, but Sam would come first. Sammy always had to come first.

Both men quieted when Kat mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'Morgan Freeman' and cuddled closer to Dean. He let an easy smile grace his face. If this was as close to being with her, he would take it. Because he did love her. He loved her very much.

"I know, Dean. I know," Sam answered, looking back to the road. He knew he loved her. Kat was the only one who _couldn't _see it. It was a strange and heartwarming to see the light in his older brothers eyes when he looked at her. It was like he was looking at the sun or the northern lights. Dean looked at very few things like that. Sam knew that he never looked at Cassie or even Lisa like that.

Sam recognized the gentle and almost reverent way he touched her, like she would break. He remembered how broken the man was when she walked away for two weeks. He remembered the exact instant the light shot back into the green-gold eyes, the moment he tugged her to his body on the dance floor. He remembered the shamed and guilty look on his face after he kissed Jo. He saw every fleeting glance, every prolonged stare, every intentional brush of skin, every careful touch, and every gentle word. He watched his brother change in a matter of seconds, from callused hunter to the man he was when he was around her. Gentle, firm, loving, wanting, careful, childish, and adult. Still himself only personified.

He had seen his brother grin like a child, make jokes that most women would cringe from, and laugh louder than he had in years. And he had also seen his brother whisper to her with a calm reassuring face. He had seen Dean cup her cheek and bring her back from whatever dark corners of her mind she had retreated to.

He could see it now, the calm, careful, way he regarded her. Ready for anything. Sam watched him roll and move to keep her comfortable. He watched the way his fingertips traced patterns on her skin and he prayed silently. He prayed for his brother to be happy.

He was surprised when his brother spoke again. "Man, I owe you an apology."

"No you don't," Sam said assuredly. As far as he was concerned, things had been made right.

"Alright, just...let me say this. I don't know if it's being a big brother or what, but to me, you've always been this snot-nosed kid that I've had to keep on the straight and narrow," he said, looking lost in memories and old times when things were simple. He sighed, deeply. "I think we both know that that's not you anymore. I mean, hell, if you're grown-up enough to find faith in me…the least I can do is return the favor." Dean smiled slightly, his face that kind of crass truth that made Sam remember old times too. "And we both know Kat's not gonna bow down to those pompous feathered asses," he added, glancing back down at her while his brother laughed. "So screw destiny, right in the face. I say we take the fight to them, and do it our way," he said, looking back at his brother.

Sam smiled, something he hadn't truly done in a while. He looked from Dean to the girl in his arms and knew they could make it, knew they could beat the world and the odds and the darkness. And Dean would continue to avoid his feelings and he could continue to mother the one that mothered him and she could joke with them in the backseat and eat her gummy bears and things could be better.

"Sounds good."


	121. Chapter 121

Dean lay next to Kat, his body beneath hers as she slept on his chest, her wings flickering in and out of existence, mangled and sick looking. He hadn't let go of her since the warehouse in California. The long drive had been spent with Sam and him talking quietly, them catching up, them being brothers. She had never woken.

"_New blood joins this earth  
>And quickly he's subdued<br>Through constant pained disgrace  
>The young boy learns their rules" <em>Dean sang quietly to himself, trying not to think about how it applied to his life. Metallica, they wrote the songs of the world, Dean thought distractedly.

"Don't quit your day job," Kat mumbled, scrunching up her face in pain as her eyes opened slowly.

"Shuttup," he said, slurring the words together until they were one long drawl. He met her crisp blue eyes and thought he could feel the pain through her and rested his hand gently on her shoulder. "How ya feelin?"

"Like shit," she grumbled, slowly raising her hand to flick hair out of her eyes. "Are we back at Bobby's?" she asked in confusion.

"You slept the whole way," Dean confirmed. Her eyes misted over as she realized she didn't have a nightmare.

"You stayed with me?" she asked, only it didn't sound like a question. Dean nodded slowly, cringing as her wings flickered like bad TV reception and he saw the bleeding shadows.

It was quiet for a moment and Dean just looked at her, seeing every morning he'd woken up to her with a small smile on her face, her nose scrunching slightly, making her look even younger than she was.

"Of course I did," he answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. She smiled, and slipped her arm over his chest, cuddling to him like she would a pillow.

"I hadn't thought you would."

"Why not?" Dean asked, looking at her.

She was quiet a moment, looking at him evenly. "I lost Adam," she said finally, the many faceted blues in her eyes betraying her shame. Dean wondered when it was, that the wall he used to find indestructible was broken down.

He shook his head, sitting up slightly, jostling her enough to earn him a shallow wince. "Sorry," he whispered, leaning back down. "And no you didn't. He made that choice."

"I could have done something," she said resolutely.

"No, you couldn't have," he said forcefully. He sighed, his green eyes clouding with the memory. "I could hear the way you were screaming. What Michael did…made it impossible for you to stop him," he whispered. She nodded, not looking at him and clearly not believing him. He reached out, rough fingers urging her chin to turn his way. "Hey, I mean it," he said seriously, searching her eyes.

"I know you do," she said softly, her chin still held in his hand. She tried not to think about how there was only an inch of space between them and Dean tried not to think about how easy it would be to pull her through the space and crush his lips to hers. He let his hand fall away.

She leaned back, and was silent long enough for Dean to think she'd gone to sleep. "You're going to have to leave without me, aren't you?" she asked softly, her eyes flitting back up to his.

He nodded slowly, "You're not strong enough," he said softly. "And Cas doesn't have enough mojo to heal anyone at the moment."

"Is he alright?" she asked, trying to sit up and wincing, having to bite down on her lip to stop a cry of pain. She collapsed back on his chest, her muscles trembling.

"Yeah, he's fine," Dean said softly. "Beat to hell, but okay."

She sighed, her eyes closing for a moment. "I'll research," she said finally, looking back at him. He nodded. "And if anything goes wrong, I will come."

"I know," he said with a slight smile.

Things were quiet then, and Dean's smile had fallen to a mask of worry. He opened and closed his mouth several times, as if deciding how to say something.

"Kat?" he asked finally. "You do know, that we care about you, right?" he asked. Hating the way it sounded so juvenile. "I mean, you know you have a place here, don't you?"

She didn't answer, only tightened her grip on his shirt. He sighed, his chest rising and falling and his other hand began tracing patterns on her back. He found the ridges of her brand quickly, and followed the line, drawing shivers from her.

"Because you do. Right between me and Sam," he said quietly. "Even if you have to remind us of it, and you have to tell us that it isn't just us against the world, you have that place. No matter what."

"It's uneven," she said suddenly, refusing to look at him. "I don't fit."

He stiffened, remembering every argument he'd ever had with his brother or his father about their life. Remembering the way Sam thought he didn't belong, remembering the way Dean thought he was never loved. He brushed his hand across her back again, between her shoulder blades to avoid her real wings.

"Yes you do," he said. "You fit right here," he held her tighter, and hoped she didn't read too far into it. He wasn't ready to admit how he felt; he wasn't ready to be rejected. "You've been with us long enough to know you belong."

"I've been with you long enough to know that you and Sam belong and I can tag along."

His face contorted into denial, his hand stilling. "No, we've been through too much. You belong here, don't ever think you don't. Kat, none of us fit, ever. That's why we're hunters. But you don't ever…you don't ever think we don't think about you, that we don't care," he said forcefully.

She sighed softly, something that sounded like the wind, lost and alone and constant. "I know, Batman, I know."

He hoped she did, because he did think of her, he thought of her more than he should. He hoped he could explain to her how much she meant. And how much he wished he could say she was equal to Sam, just so it wouldn't hurt her any more.

"I know I'll never mean as much to you as Sam, as much to Sam as you, but…I'm happy to have any piece of you, you both. Any piece of this family," she whispered, and it seemed that it took a lot for her to say it.

"We're happy to have you a part of it," he said gently. She smiled at him, something soft and gentle and he wondered if she would keep smiling, if he covered her lips with his. He blinked, coming back to Earth. "Well, now that that little campfire moment's over, you need to sleep," he said with a grin.

She yawned, nodding slightly, and curled to him, her eyes slipping closed. Dean sighed, feeling sleep come to him as well, and thought, it must be a good thing to fall asleep without feeling the fingers of desperation in his mind. He thought it must be a good thing, to fall asleep knowing that he could win anything, with Sam and Kat by him. That he could live through anything as long as those two were pushing him.

He thought that was stronger than anything Michael or Lucifer could throw at him.


	122. Chapter 122

**Hey! Please Please Please review! Next chapter will probably contain Crowley. It's up to you when you want it. Five reviews is tomorrow, otherwise I'll make you wait another day.**

**-Han**

A week moved slower when she was trapped. Every moment took a lifetime and all she could think about was the pain and the boredom. Her wings refused to set, and after she'd gathered enough strength to twist them the correct way, she couldn't move for hours. She barely slept, staying awake until the early hours of the morning, six cups of coffee. Nightmares rolled behind her eyes and she saw the devil and Alistair mixing until they were one undefeatable enemy and she couldn't stop them.

Her bed felt cold without Dean.

Bobby gave her news each day, bringing her up to speed on each hit, each move. Sam and Dean were at their best together. She trained more than she should have, working her muscles to the point of breaking in the lot, moving until she could no longer stand. Bobby would watch her from the porch, his eyes sad and stoic. She never looked his way, fearing the expression he might wear.

Nights were spent with books older than her and probably older than Bobby, leafing through them and trying to track down Death. She had been wrong, when she had said it might be easy. Death slipped through their fingers at each turn, like smoke. Some nights Dean called, and they would talk for a while, and she would hold the phone to her ear like it was a life line, and she would hope that was enough for an easier sleep. It wasn't.

Castiel had been off the grid, away with Dean and Sam sometimes and other times just away. Kat thought he might be found on mountain tops, watching the world like he used to. She wished she could fly to him, but it hurt too much.

She wondered if she would ever fly again and found the idea too painful to consider. Some days, she would stand in front of the cracked bathroom mirror and try to stretch them, watching as the fine and hollow and fragile bones moved. The feathers would just brush the wall, smearing marks of blood on the wall, and she would collapse in ward, raw pain soaring through her body, as if on wings of its own. They would stop bleeding, only long enough for her to try and stretch again, and the sores would crack and blood would flow in the realm of shadows and unseen things.

Bobby could never tell, unknowing as she hid them from his view. She wondered if Dean would be able to notice when she bled, if he would tell simply by the stiffness of her spine. And Sam. The way his gentle eyes would roam over her and worry, like a mother might a child. Worry like she worried over him. A smile rose to her face at the thought. Sam had called too, and their conversations had flowed easier, and they talked about things she thought were normal. She could hear him smile down the line as she ranted about the lack of whiskey in the house and about how she really didn't want to go to the store and about how she saw brand of toilet paper named Angel Soft when she'd finally gone, and she thought that was funny. His laugh said he had too.

She would end the call with goodnight and an 'I love you' and ask him to pass along the love to Dean and he would say he would and that he loved her too. She would hang up and wish she was with them, and knew if she got out her baby and drove Dean would hate her. She would sigh and crack her neck and feel the pain of Michael's attacks and she would get up and play video games, sometimes even with Bobby.

And she was going crazy.

She wanted, needed, to kill something more than she wanted whiskey, another thing she wanted. She wondered if her eyes would ever be fully white again, or if they would stay bloodshot, ringed in red, forever.

She cooked often, just for something to keep her fingers from itching, and braced herself against the counter, ignoring the scolding looks from Bobby. She told Dean she thought she would be strong enough to rejoin them soon. He'd laughed and told her to stop lying, he could hear her discomfort down the line.

Sometimes she wished he didn't know her so well.

"I want to go for a drive," she told Bobby, looking out at her bike and thinking about how good it would feel, to simulate flying.

Bobby didn't even look up. "Not a snowball's chance in hell."

"Why not? I feel fine," she said, ending in a wince as her body moved too quickly. Bobby raised an eyebrow.

"You know kid, training like you have been ain't gonna get you outta here any sooner," her said matter-of-factly. She lowered her head.

"Would you expect anything less of me?" she asked, a grin threatening to break from her mouth. He rolled his eyes, mumbling about how she was no better than a teenager. "I was a fantastic teenager, thank you very much," she said, grinning around the pain.

"I know you were quieter," Bobby retorted.

"Nice one, old man," Kat said with a small chuckle. She clutched at her torso, which vibrated with pain. Bobby looked at her anxiously, knowing he couldn't do anything.

"Why don't you just go sit still for a while?" He asked, almost begged. But Bobby never begged.

"Just give me a minute," she said, her eyes closed, leaning heavily against the counter. She breathed slowly, as if the action caused her great pain, and let the air out as if she would rather keep it. "I'm fine," she said when he looked like he might say something else, though her eyes had not opened.

"Like hell you are," Bobby said finally, sounding almost angry. "I've put up with this bullshit for a week now, but I'm done watchin' you kill yourself. Look ya idjit, you got beat to hell by heaven's biggest badass, you deserve some time off," he said seriously. She opened her eyes and looked at him, almost looking through him.

"We don't have time for me to be out for the count," she said, blinking back to reality. "I've already screwed up once, I have to be there to help now."

"What Adam did was not your fault!" he shouted, wishing he could stand tall enough to shake her shoulders.

She didn't say anything, only turned her face away from him. The moment was suspended in the air and Bobby could smell whatever it was she was cooking. He felt like a father, lecturing a teenager. His teenager.

"I can't be that weak again, Bobby. Ever," she whispered. "Bad things happen when I'm weak, other people die." He was silent, watching her shoulders shake and the wince that accompanied it. "I-I just, I just remember _him_, I remember him so clearly and sometimes I think he's not really dead. This is all just a new torture," she said softly, and he knew she would never be able to say this to anyone else.

But Bobby had been the one to lift her body from the ground, and check for a heartbeat. He had been the one to take her in, and watch her stumble around his house in clothes that always managed to be too big for her. He watched her become absorbed in children's movies and he had watched her writhe and scream in her sleep.

"He will never touch you again," Bobby said, his callused hand reaching out to take her wrist. "That sonofabitch is never coming back." Neither of them could be sure how she managed to collapse against his chair, but he could feel her body shudder from the pain. He thought he saw her wings, now right in their position, but still mangled to his eye.

He held her in that same awkward way she held him, because Bobby didn't hold people. Neither of them could tell you how long it lasted, but she didn't cry or do anything other than breathe deeply and be thankful for him.

When she stood back up, a shaky sort of smile was on her face and Bobby thought that it was beautiful. She looked around herself, as if just realizing where she was, and turned towards the stove.

"That's going to burn," she mumbled to herself distractedly, and their world returned to the chaotic normal they knew.


	123. Chapter 123

**Hi! Thanks so much for the reviews! And this chapter (being Dean's POV) has a few references to songs that I would really recommend listening to as they are fantastic and deep part of my childhood. If you don't get a joke, I'm sorry! I love you!**

**-Han**

Dean rolled onto his side, his fingers slipping under his pillow to graze the gun he kept there. He groaned softly, his eyes scrunching shut as the images of Hell played in his mind. He needed a break from the nightmares. He needed Kat.

He couldn't count the number of times she'd told him she was fine, the number of times she offered to ride to them. And each time he'd said no. Each time he told her could feel her pain down the line; he could hear her labored breathing. Each time, he could see her mangled wings in his mind and he would tell her to take the time to get better, and pass the phone on to Sam. They would talk forever.

He tried not to be jealous, but his bed (which ever bed in whichever motel in whichever city was his for that night) felt empty without her. Cold.

He wouldn't tell her that. He wouldn't tell her that his latest nightmare was of Alistair standing over her, sick grin plastered on his pale face. The demon rolling with hunger beneath the skin.

He opened his eyes, the shocking green taking in the dark room. His fingers had not left the gun. He released it, rising slowly and feeling his spine crack, and he wondered if the bones would splinter out into his skin. His tan muscles rippled in faded moonlight and dusty street lamps. The tattoo on his chest stood out against his skin and he wondered what it would feel like if she traced it with her fingertips.

He shook his head, thinking. The past week had been chasing their own tails, rushing to beat something eternal, something inside your lungs and it would spread out and take you under because there wasn't a cure. Chasing Pestilence was more difficult than he had thought. He remembered nights when Sammy was sick, his chest wracked with coughs until Dean had been afraid blood might spatter the pillows. Those were always days when his father had been gone. Those were always days Dean would be left to figure out the best medicine, the best way to lay Sam down, where he could still breathe.

Those were nights he stayed up until sunrise, watching his brother with worry in his young eyes.

He didn't like sickness.

A part of him couldn't wait to take that power away from the horseman, couldn't wait to eradicate the vector. He rolled over, casting his eyes to his brother, who slept peacefully, his breathing even.

Everyday had been the same monotony of their early years, eight hours in the car, singing to music Sam hated and Dean couldn't live without. There was no sketcher in the backseat who could lend Sam the means to escape the cacophony of 'In a Gadda Da Vida' on replay until it meshed with 'Rock of Ages' and if he had to hear 'Gunter glieben glauchen globen' one more time he would kill his older brother.

The thought made Dean's fingers itch to turn up the music and he thought that must be a good thing. They were almost back to normal. He was waiting for the prank wars to start again and maybe he would give Sam's number out to the desperate women at bars. He wondered if Kat would help him, or push him away and side with Sam.

He thought she'd go along with it, and set up a trap for Dean later.

Nights had been spent tracing patterns at plastic motel tables with broken legs, a cardboard box supporting it. Sometimes they would venture out to diners where women would flirt with him and he would politely turn each down. Sam's nearly delighted grin made him feel whipped.

He wondered if they would still come on to him if Kat was with them. If they felt intimidated by her long black hair and her icy eyes. He might be. Sam only shook his head and said intimidation was only part of it. Dean didn't know what that meant, but Sam said it was obvious he was taken whenever Kat was in the room. She was the only one who never saw it.

Dead ends raced around Dean's brain until he thought they could become cyclical and no longer have any end at all. Chasing his thoughts down, hunting them like he hunted the things in the dark. Tracking him down until he was just an animal and Pestilence the barrel of a shotgun. He was sure it was loaded with more than rock-salt.

Every moment was a memory played through his mind like the reel of old film, cigarette burns in the corner to keep them together, the blip on the screen. He would skip reels sometimes, seeing ten year old Sammy (when it was acceptable to call him Sammy) to the mangled Kat he'd held on the way back from war.

He wondered if it was a rule for her to be hurt on every hunt they took her on.

He stopped pretending to sleep when the alarm blared 'Go Your Own Way' by Fleetwood Mac and Dean wondered how Kat would sound singing this above the wind doing eighty on a dirt road, him at the wheel and her next to him.

He got up with a slight smile on his face, circles beneath his eyes. He threw a pillow at Sam, laughing to himself as the man jumped and rolled onto the floor. Whatever anyone said, he would still be the big brother.

"Ri-" Sam cut him off.

"If you say 'Rise and shine, Sammy,' so help me God I will murder you," Sam threatened from the floor, his eyes still closed. Dean grinned, accepting this silently and heading for the shower, raising his arms above his head and cracking every bone worth cracking. The symphony of stiff joints carried through the cheap walls.

The water beat down on him and the smile slipped from his lips for a moment as he thought about the next long day they would face. Another inevitable dead end. At least they were having something like fun, when they could.

He hoped he would be able to call her back soon, he hoped he would be able to say without guilt that she could come home to his car and the new motel room. He wished she could heal faster and knew she wanted it more than him. He could imagine her going stir crazy locked up in Bobby's house.

Back in the room Sam was only now starting to look fully awake. Dean passed him, a towel at his hips and rifled through his bag.

"We're hitting that hospital today," Sam informed him without looking up from his laptop. Dean nodded to himself, ready to put on another mask and be another person. "You got those CDC ID's, right?" Sam asked, looking up with the ghost of annoyance. "I'm not taking the risk of using 'bikini inspector' again."

"It got you through, didn't it?" Dean asked, remembering the blush he'd sported when Dean told him to act confident and no one would bother to read the card he held in his hand. "But yeah, I got 'em."

"Good. This might finally be the right hit," Sam said, determination in his eyes. "Remember what we're looking for?"

Dean looked at him, as if he were stupid. "The Lollipop King."

Sam chuckled to himself, looking only slightly apologetic. "Just remember, homicidal tendencies in flu victims," he reminded anyway, while his brother flicked him off. Dean went to change, each piece of the suit changing him until he was a man named Mick Richards who worked for the CDC. If you asked him, he was single. If you came on to him nowadays, that might not be the case. Mick was an upstanding guy, who thought he ought to get paid more and have a bigger hose. He loved his car and was protective of his coworker, Keith Watts, and yes, both thought the Stone's references in their names were funny. Mick was a terrible liar and liked to joke on the job, and he had a thing for pie.

Dean smiled in the mirror, practicing. Sometimes they came off as forced.

His reflection smiling back, Mick Richards smiling back. The face slid onto his until one was indistinguishable from the other, and the ID in his pocket defined him. Until Winchester was the brand for some kind of gun he didn't know the caliber of and he didn't know if they made knives. Until Dean was his mailman's name, but they didn't talk much.

Until Sam was his dogs name, and it was a golden lab, three years old. Thank you for asking.

Until Kat was Cat and that was an animal he didn't really like all that much. Too pompous.

He fastened his tie, and gave a suave look to his reflection. Mick's eyes looking back at him, not green enough to be his own. Not bright enough to be the ones Kat told him were the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen. Dean faded away against moldy bathroom walls and cracked linoleum and rested next to the gun he kept strapped to his hip. Ready to fall back into the place the moment he needed him.

He walked out of the bathroom humming to 'Laugh, I Nearly Died', as if the lyrics didn't mean anything to him.


	124. Chapter 124

**Yeah, I know he wasn't in the last chapter, and I'm sorry about that… BUT HE's HERE! at the verrry end. ^_^ I should upload again in two days. I need to catch up on the pirates fic. Without…..five reviews by then… I'll hold off for another day. I love you guys! PLEASE REVIEW! **

Dean fastened the doctor's mask around his face, or Mick's face, rather. The blue mesh material was supposed to block this fast-spreading immune system-degrading virus H1-N1without blocking vital oxygen and Dean wondered how the damn things worked and why they had to look so funny. He ambled down the white hallway with Sam by his side and a lady-doctor in front of him with long black hair who was just about Kat's height but lacked her grace and lithe movements. From the front she looked even less like her.

He turned to Sam with a grin the man couldn't see and leaned in conspiringly. "Hey, check it out, I look like the King of Pop," he said with a grin. Sam shook his head in something like disdain and Dean wondered if his brother listened to that kind of music. Not like he'd give him the opportunity to in his car. "Too soon?" he asked innocently, his eyes widening slightly.  
>"Too soon," Sam murmured, glad his brother couldn't see his own grin. The doctor in front of them led the way through the double doors into a hotspot of the sick. Every man, woman, and child, sported red noses and congested speech, that half-drunk look in their eyes from lack of sleep and that hacking chest-wracking cough. Dean hated that kind of sick. His eyes flicked from person to person and he was suddenly very glad for his funny looking mask.<p>

"Don't get me wrong," the doctor was saying. "I'm glad the CDC is finally here, but what we really need is the vaccine." Dean wondered why that sentence made him want to scratch the back of his head. Something about the way she said it, an earlier conversation, another moment, it meant something more.

"You got that right," Dean said almost anxiously as he eyed the sick people. He really hated sickness. Images of little Sammy with the flu played behind his eyes and he had to shake the memories away. He wondered if his brother knew how much the sight plagued him.

The room itself was crowded and stuffy even through the mesh material and every time Dean breathed he fantasized about sickness. He was grateful that Sam was at least on the ball.

"Well, tell me, have you noticed anything unusual about the strain -any signs of behavioral change, like aggression, maybe?" Sam asked, his height alone imposing enough to impose the proper authority.

"Excuse me?" The doctor questioned, her eyebrows rising. Dean rolled his eyes for a moment.

"We're trying to determine if you guys have a strain similar to another case we've sighted," he made up on the spot; sure Kat would be proud of him. "So we need to know, have the patients been showing, for lack of a better phrase, homicidal tendencies?"

He thought she thought he was trying to make a joke. Didn't she know that Mick took his job almost as seriously as Dean did? The mask was slipping and his eyes were growing brighter and Dean was becoming the dominant figure and if you didn't know him you might think he had MPD.

The woman laughed and told them something she thought would be funny about a miserable week off from work but the point was; nothing. Another dead end and Dean was about to explode. He wished Kat would get better, so he could at least have something.

"So nothing unusual?" Dean asked, seriousness creeping into his eyes until the woman blinked slowly and rolled her own.

"Hmm. Day and a half ago, we didn't have a single case. Now we're looking at over 70 - The infectious equivalent of a briefcase bomb. So, yeah, I might call that a little unusual," she said tersely, her hands looking as if they itched to sit on her hips.

"Day and a half?" Sam repeated, his eyebrows rising. The Doctor made to move forward slightly, as if she was no longer listening and Dean's character broke and he leaned towards his brother.

"That was about the same time those statues started crying," he said, hoping they'd finally found something to work with.

"Yep," Sam said with a nod.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" The doctor asked, looking back at them as they stopped and Dean scrambled to put his mask back in place, but it seemed Mick Richards had moved states.

"What was what?" Dean asked, trying to cover his slip. He hated slipping. He wondered briefly if Kat could come up with a story to cover it if she were here. He had to stop thinking about her, it was keeping him from focusing. Keeping him from the job.

"Did you just say a bunch of statues started crying?" she asked, stepping closer to them with that look in her eyes that made him think of pitchforks and angry mobs.

"N-no," Sam stuttered out, laughing nervously and casting a look at Dean. "Who-who would ever-"

"Who would say that, huh? Crazy people," Dean said quickly.

"Exactly," Sam said, feeling the rush of almost getting caught, something he hadn't felt in a while. He would never admit it, but it was like a high when he and his brother played off of each other until they felt they would crack their masks and just laugh, laugh like they hadn't in a while.

"Yeah," Dean said quickly. "Which we are not."

"No," Sam confirmed, nodding seriously.

"Just…" the woman trailed off, looking at them as if they were her patients. "Get us some vaccine." And that word made his head itch again and he was going crazy and he needed to call Bobby.

Xx

Dean held the phone to his ear in the Impala and tried not to think about how close to the phone Kat might be. He tried not to get his adrenaline pumping or his heart beating just that bit faster, but it did.

He glanced at Sam and put the phone on speaker, letting Bobby's gruff tones drift through the car.

"Let me guess - another steamin'-hot pile of swine flu?" Bobby guessed tiredly.

"Yep," Dean said, leaning back slightly in his seat and heard Bobby talk away from the phone.

"You owe me twenty, Kitty!"

Dean smiled and shook his head as Sam pressed on. "Doesn't make any sense, Bobby. Pestilence touched down here. I'm sure of it."

"Ha! Take that, old man!" Kat shouted down the line, and he thought they were on speaker now. Dean grinned, shaking his head before falling back into his role.

"But why is he dealing them soft serve like swine flu when he's got the croatoan virus up his sleeve? I-I-I don't get it," he admitted, his brow furrowing and his hand fingering the wings around his neck.

"You heard the man," Bobby said pompously, then audibly turned back towards the phone, speaking again over Kat's moans and complaints. "Doesn't matter what the sick son of a bitch is doing, What matters is this is the fourth town he's hit -That we know of - and we're still eating his dust."

"Then put me back in!" Kat whined, audibly wincing down the line as the action caused her pain.

"Not a chance," Dean said flatly.

"…Fucker," She mumbled down the line, clearly pissed off and disappointed. Dean sighed, running a hand over his face.

"Tell her I just want her safe," he said hoarsely, and Sam cut him a look and Dean almost wished he hadn't said it.

"Oh, she knows," Bobby muttered, sighing down the line. "She's just…got a lot of female in her."

"No shit," Dean said with a grin.

"She'll be over it in a bit, and back trying to train," he said tiredly. "Just wish she'd take a break, for one friggin' day."

"Have you tried tranquilizing her?" Dean asked, an eyebrow raised. Sam laughed to himself, shaking his head.

"I'm gettin' pretty damn close," Bobby grunted.

"Tell her we love her," Sam said quickly. "She always falls for the love."

"Only because of you and the friggin' puppy eyes," Dean grunted.

"Might as well try it," Bobby said. "So, um, do we have any idea what the next target will be?" he asked after a long moment of silence were reality sunk in again and there were more important things than an invalid at home.

"There's no pattern we can see," Sam said tiredly.

"Well, as far as we can tell, he's headed East…so head East," Bobby said after a moment.

"East?" Dean and Sam asked together.

"Bobby, we're in Nevada, East is all there is," Sam said.

"Well get drivin'"

"Hey Bobby," Dean said before the man hung up. "Ask Kat to research the vaccine, give her something to do."

He hung up, flipping the phone to Sam and looking ready to continue driving when his eyes flickered to the back as if expecting Kat to be there but she wasn't. Someone else was.

"Say…I've got an idea!" Crowley said brightly, his Scottish lilt making the words sound musical and far from threatening. Dean worked on autopilot, swerving the car to the side of the road and slamming on the brakes as his brother flipped in the seat and drove a knife behind him.

"Did you get him?" Dean asked, breathing hard as he looked back. The knife was sticking from his leather seats, and he remembered days when Kat sat there.

"No," Sam grunted, sitting back in his seat with an angry scowl on his face. Both men jumped as the demon appeared beside them. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and offered a smile.

"Fancy a fag and a chat? You're upset. We should discuss it. Not here, but – " the demon started, with an almost good natured smile and a slight tilt of his head. Dean and Sam cut him off by getting out of the car as one and Crowley was struck by the relation to robot warriors they bored.

"You want to talk? After what you did to us?" Sam asked, fury leaking into his voice and his fists balling against his own will and the demon had the nerve to look surprised.

"After what I -what I did to you? I gave you the colt!" Crowley shouted, his outrage accented voice carrying along the empty road.

"Yeah, and you knew it wouldn't work against the devil!" Sam shouted and Dean was far away and remembering every moment of the agonizing trip. Every second Kat seemed to fade away and the way Jo's lips had felt wrong on his and he could barely stand the guilt rising in his system and he felt he would explode.

"I never!" Crowley said quickly, shock and denial written across his face.

"You set us up!" Sam shouted. "We lost people on that suicide run. Good people!" Dean flinched internally from the sentiment because he remembered the way he begged Kat to heal her, when she hadn't known she could. The way Jo had looked at her with eyes filled with hate and how Kat had been unresponsive when they walked towards the Devil.

"Who you take on the ride is your own business! Look, everything is still the same. W-we're all still in this together," Crowley stuttered out, his hands held up in surrender and flicking his gaze between the two.

"Sure we are," Sam sneered, lunging to stab him, fury in his eyes and Dean thought he should learn to hold himself back. There was no control.

Crowley teleported, far enough away from Sam to look at Dean almost pleadingly. "Call off your dog, please."

Dean seemed to come back to reality and looked hard at Crowley, his green eyes flat and lifeless. "Give me one good reason."

The moment seemed to hang in their air while Sam's chest heaved up and down and up again and Dean wondered what had turned his brother so animal in recent months. He looked back to the demon, who's eyes were genuine enough for Dean to listen to the words that came from his mouth in that accent, that distinctive fucking accent.

"I can give you pestilence."


	125. Chapter 125

**Hey! I wanted to upload this yesterday, but it wasn't done yet, but it's here now! Do me a huge favor and review, it really means a lot to me. I love you guys and i should upload again saturday at the latest. Love you!**

**-Han**

"What do you know about pestilence?" Dean asked, his eyes hard and his heart pumping, bursting through his rib cage with reluctant hope. His mind raced ahead, delving into hidden reserves of strength and drive and he didn't want to tap them unless he was sure. He had to be sure.

"I know how to get him. That's got your interest, doesn't it?" Crowley said quickly, his eyes wide and ready to spring on the first opportunity to survive. The demon reminded Dean of a snake, but he thought Kat would hear him out.

"Are you actually listening to this?" Sam asked, shock and anger coloring his tone and he really wanted to kill something. Stab something deep inside and hold eye contact so he could see the exact moment the life drained from them. So he could see the moment death consumed them, forever taken to places darker than Hell.

"Sam," Dean said softly, his eyes on the demon dressed like a mob boss.

"Are you fucking kidding me?" Sam shouted, his shoulders tensing and his voice dropping in octave until it was deep and threatening. And Dean thought he saw a hint of madness in his eyes and wondered what was happening to his baby brother. He thought the war was wearing on him and maybe it was too much now that they had no woman in the backseat to act as an airbag for their problems.

"Sam, shut up for a second!" Dean said, growing louder and his head was beginning to hurt and his fists were clenching and he knew Sam's hand was still around that knife and he didn't want to think about it.

"Shut up, the both of you! Look...I swear... I thought the colt would work. It's an honest mistake. It's all part of the learning process. But nothing's changed. I still want the devil dead. Well...one thing's changed," Crowley said almost calmly before firing up again and Dean thought he would break something, the way the veins stood out on his forehead. "Now the devil knows that I want him dead. Which, by the way, makes me the most buggered son in all of creation."

"Holy crap," Dean said a rough laugh escaping his throat as he tipped his head back. "We don't care!"

"They burnt down my house!" Crowley shouted, waiting for some form of reaction from the brothers. He got none and pressed on, his eyes widening and his voice outraged. "They _ate_ my tailor!" Dean gave a disbelieving look and Crowley continued and he thought yet again, that Kat would like this demon. "Two months under a rock, like a bloody salamander! Every demon on hell and earth's got his eyes out for me! And yet... Here I am...Last place I should be -In the road, talking to Sam and Dean Winchester, under a friggin' spotlight!"

He abruptly flicked his hand and the street lamp above them exploded, showering sparks below to the pavement and Dean thought everyone in this life had anger issues. He ducked away from them and sent a warning look to Sam as he looked like he might act, his hand tightened visibly around the knife.

"So come with me. Please. Do you want the horsemen rings or not? Yes, I know all about that. Shall we?" Crowley asked, his hand extended slightly.

Xx

The abandoned house was barren and nearly empty, the decaying walls scrawled with symbols and spells and for a moment, Dean thought it was like that room in Van Nuys. The room he lost a little brother and a partner. He shook himself, walking slowly around and waiting for Crowley to start again.

"Here we are -My life on the lam. How the mighty have fallen. Single-pane glass, used contraception in the fireplace." He waved his hand, igniting a fire in the hearth as Dean's head tilted to the side in question. "The water damage alone –"

"My heart's bleeding for you," Dean said sarcastically. "Now, how do you know about the rings?"

"Well, now...I've been keeping a close eye on you lot," Crowley said with a small grin, moving forward slightly and Dean realized he was short. Still taller than Kat, but definitely short.

"We've got hex bags," Sam piped up, his face still darkened with anger. "We're hidden from demons."

Crowley almost giggled, the upper hand a high in the situation and he was tripping something fierce. "All but one. That night you broke into my house, our first date," he said almost lovingly. "My valet hid a tracking device in your car -A magical coin that easily trumps your little bags o' bones. It allows me to hear things, too -and, my, the things I've heard," he said with a delighted chuckle. He turned back to the older brother. "Dean, I didn't know you felt that way about the little pet," he said with a cheeky grin.

"Leave her out of this," Dean grunted.

"Oh, hit a sore spot did we? I can't see why, you could have her drooling after you if you wanted," Crowley said with a grin and Dean thought he was just trying to get on his good side. "She got the hard ball from Michael, I heard. Do send her my love," he added with a smile that almost looked genuine, but wasn't quite.

"Get to your point," Sam said tersely, his knuckles whitening around the knife and the instinct to act was rising up in him and he remembered rule 19 in John's rules for hunters, '_If it has killed on innocent person, it deserves to be roasted on a spit in Hell, don't think twice when you give it its free ticket.'_

Maybe his father had words of wisdom, here and there.

"So you want to cram the devil back in the box? Cunning scheme. I want in," Crowley said finally, his eyes bright and intent and Dean thought he really was like a salesman, who just spotted a deal.

"You said you could get us pestilence," Dean said after a moment, his face still hard and heart hammering with thoughts of Kat and what Crowley could do to her in the state she was in.

"Well, now...I don't know where pestilence is...Per Se. But I do know the demon who does. He's what you might call the horsemen's stable boy. He handles their itineraries, their personal needs. He's who you want -believe me. He'll tell us where Sneezy's at," the demon said slickly, his charming smile perfectly in place and his accents making his words sound safe and soft.

"Well how do we get him to spill? Rip out his toenails?" Dean asked, suddenly sick to his stomach with the images of Hell and for once he wished he could repress them on command, make them burn away in the flames that licked at his soul. But he couldn't do that, and the only one who could wasn't there.

"No. Nuts at his pay grade don't crack. We bring him here, then I sell him," Crowley said as if it explained everything and maybe it did but Sam didn't get it.

"Sell him?" Sam asked, his head tilting to the side slightly in confusion and the anger was etched away for a moment.

Crowley scoffed, looking almost offended at their lack of knowledge. "Please. I've sold sin to saints for centuries. Think I can't close one little demon?"

Dean looked him over, trying to imagine the age rolling beneath the form and wondered what he looked like beneath the skin. He would have to ask Kat. "Alright," he said, drawing himself back to the task at hand and being who he needed to be. "So where's this demon of yours?"

Xx

Dean held the phone to his ear and prayed she would be the one to answer. Some God somewhere must have been listening because she picked up.

"Batman, what's wrong?" she asked quickly, sounding out of breath. "We only called you a half hour ago."

"We're fine," Dean said, glad she wasn't still sore about the way they left each other last conversation. "I-I just need your advice," he whispered. He was standing outside the house, Sam was somewhere, trying not to kill Crowley as Dean relayed all their information to Kat, who listened quietly.

"Do it," she whispered. "You need to. Crowley needs this too, he won't screw us over."

"How do you know?" he asked and he sounded like the little boy he never got to be, if only for a moment.

"Because," she said lightly, and he could barely hear the strain it took for her to speak. "Because I know you can kick his accented-ass back to his homeland if he crosses you," she said with a small laugh that drew on from him.

"It's not fair, that you always know what to say," he said after a moment. He could practically hear her shrug down the line.

"I just know you."

Not as well as he wished she did, he thought. She didn't know how much he cared for her, wanted her, loved her. She had no idea and he could never tell her.

"Be safe," she whispered, sounding worried for him and it made him worried for him too. "Call me when it's over. Don't forget," she ordered, her voice hardening and becoming her again.

"I promise," he said and she could hear his smile down the line.

"Tell Sam the same thing, just in case. And good luck, Batman," she said softly, before he heard the dial tone buzz in his head and he closed his phone and walked back inside, distractedly checking over his weapons. The act let both men in the room know he was going, know he had decided to go with the word of a demon.

"Why are we even listening to him? Dean this is totally insane," Sam ranted, loading his own clip and glaring over his shoulder.

"I don't disagree," Dean muttered. "But Kat agrees, we have to take the chance."

"One big happy family, then are we?" Crowley asked strolling back into the room, rubbing his hands together and smiling at them in a nearly charming way.

"You ready?" Dean asked, looking up at the shorter man.

"Yes. Yes I am," he said in a nearly chipper voice. "Sam, keep the home fires burning, will you?" he asked kindly.

Both hunters paused in sync, their eyes widening and Crowley could see they were brothers.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked, his voice surprisingly even for the situation and he could see his brother losing his grip on self-control, it was slipping through the younger man's fingers and he could see the crazed look coming back into his eyes.

"Sam's not coming," Crowley said with a roll of his eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Dean blinked, shock rushing to his system and he had the sudden, insane urge to call Kat again. He was stupid. He could handle this on his own.

"Why the hell not?" Sam asked, that dangerous calm coloring his voice. Dean always hated that calm; it made him think of all those times before he left for Stanford, when all they did was fight.

"Because I don't like you...I don't trust you...And - oh, yes -You keep trying to kill me!" Crowley shouted, his eyes betraying the dislike he harbored, and no amount of accent could make the words sound safe.

"I'm not asking you, am I? Cause you're not invited. I'm asking you," he said, pointing to Dean, whose face was blank and tinted with indecision. "What's it gonna be?" he asked, his voice gravelly and low. Dean didn't say anything, his eyes flicking to the ground and staying there. Crowley scoffed. "Gentlemen...Enjoy your last few sunsets."

"Wait," Dean said suddenly, the trust Kat had in him rushing back to him and he trusted the demon enough. "I'll go." He turned to a practically bursting Sam and gave a sheepish smile. "What can I say? I believe the guy."

Sam watched the Impala roll out of the lot, tires kicking up gravel and dust and Sam had never really seen it from this end. Never seen the goodbyes and the hunt ahead of two people that didn't involve him. At least, not since he was a little boy and that was just a memory, a memory long buried beneath anger and pain and resentment and it was rushing back to him. He sighed, and walked back into the house, his eyes on the ground.


	126. Chapter 126

**Happy Thanksgiving! So I'm uploading! –fist bump- And please please take the second to review. I know you guys get fed up with my lack of updating and I honestly don't mean to with this story. The loyalty of reviewing you guys have is just so fantastic and you guys mean the whole world to me. If you've been reading and not reviewing, I would love for you to try it, but you do not have to by any means. Have a wonderful holiday, guys!**

**-Han**

Sam gripped a bottle of whiskey, his drunken slur garbled down the line as he pressed the phone to his ear and let the warm liquid burn down his throat. He could hear Kat drinking on the other end, the swallow accented with a small wince.

"…Right out the door with Crowley," he ranted, sighing and swallowing again, the burn becoming pleasant and he knew he was a jackass drunk. Kat sighed, the sound breathy down the line and her voice was comforting.

"You have to trust him, Sammy, Dean can handle himself," she tried to explain, a misty look in her eyes in Bobby's kitchen. Sam snorted. "He really can, I know you're protective of him, God knows I am," she said with a laugh accented with another wince. "But I think we can trust him on this one," she said slowly.

Sam laughed bitterly, a hollow resounding thing and he suddenly stopped, cutting himself off and Kat thought she got whiplash as he asked her suddenly. "Hey, how do you deal with always being left behind on these things?" he asked, the whiskey talking but it didn't matter because the silence from her end made him pause.

"I'm going to put Bobby on now," she said softly, her eyes shut tightly in the kitchen. "Get some sleep if you can, Sammy," she whispered, before passing the phone along.

There was a pause, in which Sam wondered what he'd said, but the alcohol made it hard to think pass that delightful blur. He heard the phone crunch and shuffle and it was passed to rough hands.

"Boy," Bobby said by way of greeting. "What is it with you Winchesters and stickin' your foot in your mouths?" he asked, watching Kat stumble out of the kitchen, her back bowed as if her wings were trailing on the ground.

"Pfft, whiskey," he said as if it explained everything and Bobby thought it did. "Hey, Bobby," he said suddenly.

"Kid you better apologize to her when your head clears," he said stiffly. "But Yeah, what?"

"Remember that time you were possessed?" Sam asked, his brain clearing slightly as the thoughts that had been rumbling through his brain were finally coming to the surface. All the plans.

"Yeah. Rings a bell," Bobby said bitterly, his free hand tightening on the arm of his wheelchair.

"When Meg told you to kill Dean, you didn't. You took your body back," Sam said, his voice slowly becoming clearer.

"Just long enough to shank myself, yeah," Bobby said, trying not sound bitter or harsh.

"Well, how'd you do it? How'd you take back the wheel?"

"Why are you asking, Sam?" Bobby asked, his voice sounding tired and broken and sad.

"Say we can open the cage. Great. But then what? W-we just lead the devil to the edge and get him to jump in?" Sam asked, taking another swig from his bottle to drown out the clarity.

"You got me," he said stiffly, the direction of the conversation prompting him to take a swig of his own flask.

"What if you guys lead the devil to the edge and I jump in?" he asked, and Bobby could hear the sincerity and it scared him and he was glad that Kat had left the room.

"Sam," he warned, exhaustion creeping into his voice.

"It'd be just like when you turned the knife around on yourself. One action - just one leap," he explained, and Bobby thought that drunks and small children were the only truly honest people in the world.

"Are you idjits tryin' to kill me?" Bobby shouted down the line, every repressed fear and near-heart attack rushing back and he was going to explode. "We just got done talking your brother off the ledge, and now you're lining up to say 'yes'?" he tried to keep his voice down, Kat was in the other room and he didn't want her more wound up than she already was.

"It's not like that. I'm not gonna do it. Not unless we all agree. But I think we got to look at our options," Sam said quickly, clarity returning and he wondered what Kat would say about all of this and he realized what he had said and he found himself cursing in his mind.

"This isn't an option," Bobby grunted, a hand running over his face and the phone pressed tightly against his face.

"Why not?" Sam asked, his voice taking on that liquid quality and Bobby knew the liquid would be amber and burn.

"You can't do it. What I did was a million-to-one, and that was some pissant demon I was brain-wrestling. You're talking about taking back control from Satan himself." He wished he didn't sound so patronizing. He wished he didn't sound so belittling and fatherly. He sounded like John and he hated it.

"Yeah. Yeah, I am," Sam said softly.

"Kid, it's called _possession _for a reason, you of all people ought to know that!" he said, struggling to keep his voice down.

"I'm strong enough," he whispered.

"You ain't. He's gonna find every chink in your armor, Sam, and use it against you -Your fear, your grief, your anger. And let's face it - You're not exactly Mr. Anger management. How are you gonna control the devil when you can't control yourself?" Bobby said softly.

There was no response from the other end of the line for a full minute and Bobby thought he'd gone. Then a raspy, "Put Kat back on."

Bobby sighed, low and old as time and Sam thought the wear was pushing down on him. He called her, passing her the phone and wheeling himself from the room and down the hall and away from the pain and the fear and the apocalypse.

"Sammy?" Kat asked softly, her voice sounding almost wounded, like an animal.

"Kat," he said down the line, his voice sounding soft and clear. "I'm sorry. We don't mean to leave you; we never mean to leave you."

"It's okay," she said softly. "I know where I belong, Sammy. Sometimes, I just don't stack up to the brothers. It's okay," she insisted when she heard him take a breath to cut her off. "It's supposed to be that way. It's supposed to be about you and Dean." He could almost hear a watery smile down the line as she sighed. "I wouldn't want it any other way."

Sam tried not to feel the guilt rising in his gut at the sentiment, but he managed to stutter out something in response. "We love you," he said in that sloppy, drunken way. "We really do."

"I know," she whispered. "And most days, that's enough."

_Xx_

Dean held a pair of binoculars close to his face, scanning the outside of the Niveus pharmaceutical main building. Distractingly he wondered why they were based here. His green eyes focused in on the men lining all entrances, stony faces and crisp suits.

"Demons?" he asked quietly, the one beside him shook his head.

"Human shields," he said lightly. "The demons are up top…12th floor."

Dean nodded. "Alright, we're finding a way in through the back," he said, putting the binoculars down. He wouldn't kill a human, his father's training ingrained in his being and taking the life of a person was infinitely different than taking the life of a demon. Just the thought made him sick to his stomach.

"You Winchesters make everything so complicated," Crowley muttered, disappearing from the passenger's seat and Dean knew what he was going to do the moment he opened his mouth.

"Crap," he spat, fury rising in his body as Crowley appeared behind the first man, efficiently slicing his throat from ear to ear. "Oh crap, crap, crap." He was out of the car and running towards the demon, who had already dispatched the other man.

"Doors open!" Crowley said with a satisfied grin. "What?" he asked at Dean's shocked and angry stare.

"You killed them?" he asked, as if the demon had a sense of right and wrong. Crowley looked at him like Dean was stupid and Dean hated to be stupid.

"We're on a tight schedule. What? Now you're squeamish?" the demon asked with an incredulous look. Dean swallowed, pushing down the shouting voice of his father in his head, and the softer, disappointed voices of Kat and Sam.

They walked together to the elevator, each step echoing off the walls and the tiles beneath their feet were too clean looking. Everything looked sterile. The metal doors slid open, welcoming them inside.

"Go get 'em tiger," Crowley said with an almost affectionate pat on his shoulder. Dean turned to face him, an eye brow raised and his hands balling into fists.

"Wh- You're not coming?" he asked in shock. He wondered suddenly if he should have made Sam come with him; if he should have ignored Crowley and just done what they always had. Go in together, get out together.

"Oh, no. It's not safe up there," Crowley said lightly, as if commenting on the weather and suddenly Dean was thinking of every way he could kill the demon in front of him. "There's demons," he added, the look on his face like that of a child who was explaining exactly why he didn't want to go to school.

"Yeah, I got that," Dean said, his face carefully blank but the gravely tone of his voice betrayed him and he felt like his father.

"Look, just do what I told you a-and try to be convincing," Crowley said as if he had all the confidence in Dean in the world but the look on his face made him wary. "It'll work like a charm. Trust me."

Dean felt himself nodding, as if it was ordinary to take the word of the demon and he stepped inside the elevator. The doors slid closed and every second he waited was another he felt like a moron. He pulled out his phone, staring at the screen and debating on whether or not to call her. He sighed, brow scrunching at the cheap sounding elevator music. He put his phone back in his pocket, his fingers worrying over the place it rested in his pocket. Second thoughts swirling in his brain and he wondered if he should just get over himself and call.

The doors slid open and he stepped out, refusing to let his heavy heart weigh him down.


	127. Chapter 127

**Hey guys! So I want to thank everyone who reviewed, as usual, you all hold my heart. That sounded weird. O.o Anyway, next chapter –WHOOO- also, I was rereading my older chapters cuz I'm vain like that, and another huge thankyou to all of you who have stuck with me through this. Especially seeing how mean I've been about the whole…romance thing. Don't get your hopes up, sorry, but the way I have this planned, it'll be a while. (don't kill me?) I hope you guys understand why, though, considering their characters and the situation. I love all of you!**

**-Han**

The double doors in front of Dean opened, and the bodies around him fell to the carpet, black eyes crackling away with the energy of Ruby's knife. Dean tried not to think about the bodies those demons inhabited, the families he was tearing apart with each plunge of the blade into a chest cavity or a neck. He swallowed, walking through the doors with his awkward uncommonness.

If there was one thing he knew about himself, without a shadow of a doubt, it was that he did not belong on the CEO floor of any company. His dirty combat boots and bloodied hands just didn't fit. The man behind the large desk seemed to, though.

He was clean cut that perfect dark blonde hair swept to the side. Murky green eyes that sort of charming that would have aided him in making friends and clawing his way up to his position. He was lightly tanned, a square jaw and a nice smile that made Dean sick to his stomach. He hated suits.

And this was definitely a suit.

The man- Brady- looked up and flashed that million dollar smile, and Dean walked further into the room his footfalls even sounding out of place. "Dean Winchester," the man said softly. "What? No appointment?" he asked with contempt.

Dean walked further, the knife in his right hand. "Kinda an eleventh hour kind of thing," he said with a charming smile of his own. Or maybe it was less charming and more rugged and sarcastic. That was how he won the ladies anyway.

"Well, then, you're just on time. Have a seat. How's your brother?" Brady said amiably, as Dean sunk into the uncomfortable leather chair. The hunter eyed the chair across from him, the spinning armed kind. It looked far more comfortable than his. He met the demon's eyes with a flat look, until Brady sighed and rubbed his hands together. "Well, down to business, then. What can I do for you?"

"Actually," Dean said in his best 'business' voice. He wished Kat could be the one to deal with him. One look at her huge blue eyes and she could turn almost anyone to putty; he thought even a demon would be hard pressed to not find her logic. "It's about what I can do for you."

"Really?" Brady asked, as if it were a comment on the weather. Good business.

"Me and Sam dropped two of your jockeys. I think you know that," Dean said amiably. Bad grammar aside, he thought he was doing quite well.

"Yes, I got the memo," he said with a gentle smile that Dean thought was almost predatory. He didn't like it.

"Well, uh, we kept their…secret power rings," Dean said, for lack of a better word.

"Mm." Brady made the noise of understanding and leaned back in his chair, his fingers pressed together near his lips. Dean smiled to himself.

"Which is why I'm here. I heard some folks saying that you wanted them back and you were willing to pay," he said and damn it all if he didn't feel like the Godfather saying it. He should go into the mob business.

"And where are they?" Brady asked, a more dangerous look in his eyes.

"Not here. But you want them, you'll come with me -Nice and civil -We'll get out of your little batcave here, and we'll discuss a transaction." Yeah, he definitely should become a mob boss. He felt more powerful than he had in years, like he held all the cards.

"Who says I want them?" Brady asked, a smile on his lips and Dean's froze.

"What?" he asked shortly, and even he could hear his Kansas roots in the simple word. Even he could hear the slight drawl in his voice.

"Who…says….I…want them?" Brady asked slowly, as if Dean was some idiot pencil pusher from the fourth floor he was trying to fire without coming off as the bad guy. And Dean really hated feeling like the little guy.

"You know…folks," Dean said, and for the love of all that was holy he had no idea why he was protecting a demon. But his heart was beating a little too fast and his head was beginning to hurt right behind his eyes.

"See…" he paused to clear his throat and Dean could see the moment the demon in front of him lost that business coolness. A sneer came to his lips and his murky eyes seemed to darken further. War and famine, even if I could cram the rings back on their bony fingers, I doubt it would do much good. They're withered husks right now -Fetal position on the floor -All thanks to you. So I don't want the rings. What I want is retribution. And I'm gonna rip it right out of your ass!" Brady screamed, the pupils of his eyes spreading out until they swallowed all of it, leaving that hellish void for Dean to stare into.

Dean's back hit the doors and then the far wall with a resounding smack and he knew it would bruise later. He groaned, rolling up with a shake of his head, trying to push off the encompassing blackness that was tempting him to fall into it. To succumb and escape pain.

"This…is so good," Brady said with an appreciative chuckle, walking towards him and adjusting his sleeves. Dean groaned again, and the sound was pathetic even to him. Brady smiled, the motion like the snake he undoubtedly was and kicked Dean in the ribs. He could feel the dress shoes biting into his skin and his dignity would rather have them be steel-toed boots.

"Therapeutic, for sure. You know, Dean, I really owe you one, buddy, 'cause I feel…so….much…better!" he hissed, accenting each word with another kick to Dean's ribs. It began to feel as if he _was _wearing steel-toed boots and he thought he might break a rib soon, if he hadn't already.

Dean wasn't sure how he managed to get up, but in a moment he was running as fast as he could down the hallway, his boots nearly slipping out from underneath him. His palm slammed down on the elevator button, his fingers pressing it down repeatedly until the doors finally opened. He threw himself inside, his breathing fast and labored, his body turning to watch Brady casually walk towards him.

"Dean where are you going?" Brady asked, sounding genuinely upset. "We were just getting started."

The doors closed and there was a space of a minute and half where Dean experienced salvation. A minute and a half where the cheap music made his head hurt just a bit less and he couldn't tell you why and he used the time to take deep, even breaths. He was thankful that nothing felt broken.

When they slid open again he was looking both ways like he was crossing an intersection. Brady materialized behind him and Dean would never know, or care how. The demon hit him on the back of the head and his hand rose to cradle it on reflex.

"Good meeting, Dean," Brady said with a smile. "You know…I'm excited."

Before he could finish whatever it was he was trying to say, Crowley appeared, dropping a sac over the demon's head and smashing him with a crowbar and Dean really wished he could have done it. He breathed deeply, looking at the dropped Brady and realizing the sac was painted with a Devil's Trap.

"What the fuck was that?" Dean asked, his speech slightly slurred from the pain in his ribs and his head.

"That was perfect!" Crowley said with a smile, that self-serving grin on his Scottish face and Dean was wondering how best to make that face break.

"Perfect?" Dean echoed in disbelief. "He didn't want the rings, he wanted me." Sometimes Dean wondered why he didn't see certain things, when in hindsight, they were so clear.

"Imagine the surprise on your face," Crowley said with almost boyish glee and Dean suddenly hoped that Kat never knew of this, or the demon wouldn't live to see another day, no matter who's side he was on.

"Your ignorance and misinformation—I mean, completely authentic," Crowley said as if commenting on an actor's portrayal of himself. "You can't fake that. I mean, it went off like clockwork," he said as if commending himself.

"Not for me you sonofabitch!" And the word was brought together again and it was a title in and of itself.

"S'what you get, working with a demon," Crowley reminded with a grin.

Xx

"Yeah, we're gonna work it out when we get out, but I'm fine," Dean said down the phone line, a slightly inebriated Kat on the other line. He could tell because she sounded the same, only slightly louder, no soft-spoken sweetness.

"You better be fucking fine," she nearly grunted. "And the demon?"

"He's back here, keepin' an eye on the suit."

"Get back here fast, Batman," she said softly, softer than he was expecting. "I don't like updates from the phone, when I can hear you're lying to me, but I can't see it."

"I'm not lying," Dean said with large eyes.

"Yeah, sure," she snorted. "And I bet your head feels fine."

"You're one to talk, your wings still bleeding?" he quipped back. The line was silent for a moment and Crowley was watching him in the rearview.

"Don't lie to me, and I won't lie to you," she said finally. "Tell Crowley take it easy on the merchandise next time. We're low on angel-fu," she said before the line went dead. Dean sighed, throwing it on the passenger's seat.

"She's got a mouth on her," Crowley said appreciatively. "I knew I liked her," he said with a nod to himself.

"Oh shut up," Dean groaned.

"What's wrong, champ? Got a bit of a headache? Maybe you should have told the little Kitty," Crowley teased as if they'd been friends for years.

"I will kill you one day, I swear to God," Dean groaned to himself.

"Not today, sport, not today," he said with a grin. Crowley turned, bringing his knife up to Brady's chest, ignoring Dean's nervous looks and beginning to carve a sigil into the skin, each slice of the knife separating skin and letting rivers of red run from the cream flesh. It fascinated the demon.

"Hey, hotstuff, watch the upholstery!" Dean shouted, sending worried looks at the demon, but more importantly, his seats.

"Up yours, mate. This bit of carving will tie our friend here down. No zapping off, no smoking out -Locked in the meat suit...an important piece of our bargaining strategy. Now, up here, we don't want I-50. Take 93 north," Crowley said, leaning forward to point with his knife out the window.

"What are you talking about?" Dean asked, refusing to make the turn yet.

"Look, we can't take this guy back to your brother," Crowley said, almost reluctantly.

"Why the hell not?" Dean nearly shouted. When the demon was silent, Dean nearly growled. "Crowley?"

"They've got history, all right?" Crowley shouted and Dean was at his own breaking point. The wheels of his baby screeched as he pulled her to the side of the road. The hunter's body turned quickly and efficiently and his right hand was reaching for his weapon.

"You want to go anywhere, you start talking. What history?" Dean asked angrily, his green eyes seeming to burn deep inside. Burn brightly. Crowley swallowed, his eyes flitting back and forth. The demon sighed, his eyes rolling in the darkness of the street. Dean refused to back down, and he thought his brother and Kat would be proud.


	128. Chapter 128

**I'm so sorry this is so late, but it's long…so…love me? I would really love some reviews! Hinthinthinthinthint. Love you!**

**-Han**

Sam sat on the cheap metal bed, it more closely resembled a cot, his head hanging limply. His eyes were downcast and his shoulders slumped forward as he tried to force his thoughts away from depression, from the last hopes of desperate men. He'd prayed often in his youth, he liked to think his connection to God was another thing that kept him safe from becoming like his father, but he hadn't really prayed in months. Since he'd succumbed to demonic blood and vengeance. He didn't think he deserved to talk to God after that.

But it was clouding in on him and he felt boxed in and maybe if he prayed one more time, God would listen.

He heard the Impala before he saw it, the rumbling engine forcing his head up and anticipation settled in his gut and he was never gladder for Dean's timing. He stood unsteadily, stumbling towards the stairs and down them and distractedly, he wondered how many drinks he'd managed to have. He would probably throw up later. Maybe he'd throw up on Crowley, it'd give him a sort of satisfaction to see those expensive shoes screwed up.

The demon himself was waiting for him downstairs, looking remarkably nervous, considering. The anxiety in his clean features bordered on frustration, and maybe even fear. Sam jumped to any conclusion within reach, and uttered the first words he could logically think of.

"Where's Dean?" he asked, accusation in his voice and he had no doubt the demon could hear it.

"Now...For the record, I'm against this. Negotiating a high-level defection - It's very delicate business," Crowley said and Sam thought he was speaking a second language.

"What are you talking about?" Sam asked and the words were still filled with accusation. He wondered if Kat would stand by him on this one.

"I begged Dean not to come back. We should be miles away...from you. He replied with a colorful rejoinder about my 'corn chute,'" Crowley said to himself, pacing back and forth in the run down living room. His eyes shifting around himself as if he expected Sam to stick a knife through his chest.

Sam scoffed, he knew Dean trusted him. More than he used to, anyway. The hunter started for the next room, the one he was sure would hold his brother with whatever, or whoever they were supposed to be dealing with today and it must've been Thursday again. Thursday when the world would end and they were left barely breathing and ready to take another hit. He hated Thursdays.

"So, go ahead. Go -ruin our last best hope. It's only the end of the world," Crowley mumbled, defeat creeping into the demon's features and Sam had to remind himself that demon's felt emotions. Nothing complicated, just animalistic fear and anxiety.

Sam rolled his eyes and entered the room, his head tilting curiously at the sight of his brother and a man with a bag over his head. Blood crusted on his dress shirt, the man looked higher up on the food chain than he and Dean were used too. Dean looked to have taken a few hits, his skin stained rusty in some places. His brother had that look on his face, that guidance counselor hesitant look and Sam didn't like it. His brother was guns-blazing with a give 'em hell attitude, he wasn't supposed to be hesitant.

"Sam," Dean almost breathed, soft and hesitant again. Sam blinked, stepping further into the room, his eyes flicking between his brother and the man with the bag over his head.

"What's going on, Dean?" he asked, hating himself for sounding scared of the answer. Not a few hours ago he was discussing fighting the Devil and winning. He didn't sound strong enough now. He shook himself, determination back in his bones.

"I need you to stay on mission, okay? Focused," Dean said as if he were approaching a feral animal. Sam felt caged again, the walls were shrinking in and all that mattered was who was under that bag.

"I don't understand. What's all this about?" Sam asked, turning large eyes to Dean and the older hunter wished he could protect him. But he was a grown man and he could handle it.

"I'm doin' this cause I trust you," Dean admitted softly, turning fragmented green eyes onto his younger brother, no longer under his protection.

Sam paused, swallowing thickly and he wondered if Dean knew about the call he'd made. What he had suggested to Bobby under the influence of amber, warm liquid and angst. "Trust me to what?" he asked, his voice slightly louder than he'd intended and the man Dean held up jerked, the head beneath the bag perking up.

"Sam?" the voice called and Sam felt the itch in the back of his head at the familiarity. "Sam is that you?"

Dean shook his head, guilt in his eyes as he reached towards him, his slim fingers gripping the edges of the bag, before pulling it off in one swift movement and Sam felt like it lasted a life time. He sucked in an uneven breath, his head tilting to the side and denial flooded into his eyes.

"Brady?" he stuttered out. The bloodied man before him looked up, a good natured smile on his stained lips, and Sam hated how he remembered it so clearly. All the times they joked and goofed off like morons, like the child Sam had never been and Brady always was.

"Brady hasn't been Brady in years. Not since, oh...middle of our sophomore year?" Brady seemed to ask himself, as if commenting on the weather and speculating on the possibility of rain. Sam stopped thinking and Dean winced behind the demon, still holding him roughly.

"What?" Sam managed to spit out, that same denial back and his blood seemed to thicken in his veins until it wasn't pumping anymore.

"That's right. You had a devil on your shoulder even back then. All right, now, let it all sink in," the demon said with another smile.

Sam could feel his brain kick in, each nerve alive with thoughts and memories and the way Jess used to laugh and the way her skin used to feel beneath his and the way she used to hang off of his broad shoulders when he talked to Brady between classes.

His face crumpled into rage, rage he hadn't felt since his father died. Rage that consumed and made everything alive without the help of demon blood. Rage that made him blind and let him see.

"You sonofabitch! _You sonofabitch!"_ he screamed, moving towards the demon and not surprised when Dean grabbed him, holding him back as he fought blindly. "_You introduced me to Jess!" _

The way she smiled, the way she smelled, the way she would trace the circles under his eyes when he woke from nightmares. The way a room would seem brighter when she laughed and the way she cooked when she was happy and she wrote poetry when she was sad and how she rarely wrote poetry when he was with her. How she cringed from horror movies and never questioned his past and knew all his scars and never asked for the stories. The way it felt to wake up next to her and feel so inexplicably safe. The way she made him feel like he could live that life.

Everything rushed through his soul until the wounds felt new and she'd died yesterday and Dean knew it was hurting him. But he held on, refusing to let his brother take away their last chance.

"Ding, ding! I think he's got it!" Brady taunted. Pressing the right buttons made the demon almost squirm with enjoyment, it was a high he was determined to ride until his last breath.

Sam struggled against Dean, pushing his body to the limit until Dean's grab bordered on painful. "Dammit Sam!" his older brother shouted in something like desperation and Sam struggled harder, shouting at Dean to get out of his way. Dean pulled him kicking and thrashing from the room, his head filled with Brady's laughter.

"I'm gonna kill him," Sam swore, his body refusing to relax and every muscle was wired and he needed Dean to move. "Get out of my way."

"No," Dean responded in a voice too calm for Sam's liking. Sam's jaw clenched and the insistence in his body to commit the most violent murder he could was consuming.

"Get out of my way, Dean," he spat. He tried not to notice how Dean looked disappointed in him.

"There is only one way to win, and it ain't by killing that thing in there," he said logically. All at once Sam hated logic. Hated logic like he hated God when He wouldn't listen. Like he hated his job and like he hated the way his brother was always trying to protect him. He hated when it wasn't working for him, and that made him ashamed.

Crowley approached with a hard look to Dean clearly meant to convey a big fat 'I told you so' and maybe Dean would nod his head and say the demon was right. "Well...sounds like you got him nice and fluffed. Thanks so much," the demon said sarcastically, looking at the door with disdain.

He walked through the door, shutting it with a snap behind him and Dean turned to Sam again. "Listen to me. We need pestilence to get at the devil, and we need Brady to get to pestilence," Dean said and there was that logic again.

"Why? Because Crowley said so? Because we trust him now? Like I trusted Ruby? Or like I trusted Brady back at school?" Sam fired back, that hopelessness creeping back into his eyes.

Xx

"Look...Do the math yourself. If Lucifer wins, he'll turn this place into his kingdom. When the Morningstar cleans house, we all get the mop," Crowley said to Brady, who'd been strapped down tightly to a chair.

"He created us. Why would he destroy us? That makes no sense," Brady argued past the blood caking in the corners of his mouth. Crowley rolled his eyes, thinking again, how above the rest of the demonic population he was.

"Look at who -at what he is. Then take a look at what we are," Crowley tried to explain in small terms, so Brady would understand him.

"Maybe you should be a little less worried about our necks and be a little more worried about yours," Brady said back with a small grin. Crowley shrugged.

"Has crossed my mind," the demon admitted with a small sigh. "Not really the point."

"Actually, Crowley, that is the point. No one will know greater torment than you. Lucifer is never gonna _let_ you die. As for me, I know the score. I'm dead, whether I tell you anything or not. So I think I'll die on the winning side, thanks," Brady finished with a grin.

Crowley rolled his eyes and exited the room, walking to Dean with resignation and sometimes he wondered why he didn't just hide under a rock for the next century.

"How'd it go? He buy your girl scout cookies?" Dean asked almost anxiously, feigning a casual demeanor and he wished he could shoot something. It was easier when things were high-wired and his heart beat irregularly. He knew how to handle those situations, they came so naturally he could sleep through them and still do what needed to be done.

"Not yet. Where's your moose?"

It took Dean a minute to realize he was talking about Sam and when he did he had to hold back a grin at the name. He was sure Sam wouldn't feel the same, but amusement came rarely in times like these. "He's cooling off," Dean said with a shrug and he hoped he was right.

"All right then. Get bent," Crowley said lightly, his voice almost chipper.

"You goin' somewhere?" Dean asked, his eyebrows raising and his fingers twitched with the idea of a fight ahead of him.

"Well, he won't budge, so now I go stick my neck out," he answered with a sour look. "But you stay here, watch the kid, call your girlfriend, keep an eye on the hostage," he said with a small grin and Dean didn't have it in him to correct the 'girlfriend' comment.

"What are you gonna do?" Dean asked, and he felt a churning of emotions in his stomach and some side of him didn't want the demon to get hurt. He wasn't all that bad, really, and they needed him.

"Exactly the kind of desperate swashbuckle I've been trying to avoid. Now I go kick open a hive of demons. This whole bloody ring business better work," the demon mumbled before disappearing.

Dean sighed, his shoulders drooping all at once and he was tired. He wondered when he last slept. The thought was too depressing to ruminate over and he needed to wake himself up. He half-stumbled into the bathroom, turning on the sink and splashing his face with water. He felt his hands drag against his stubble and knew he needed a shave soon.

He looked back up sharply, cursing when he heard the shifting of a chair outside the door and somewhere in his gut he knew Sam had blocked it. Before he could think twice he'd slammed his body against the wood, praying it would give. It stood strong and he cursed again.

"Sam! Don't do this!" he shouted, his voice bordering on begging. "Open the door, man, please!"

Sam ignored him, brushing off the rough voice of his brother and focusing on the demon in front of him. Tied down Brady was an even better target, and that fury was still pumping through his veins.

"Well, here we go. We doing last words or no?" Brady said with a grin, still bloody and beaten but cocky. Sam had always hated cocky people.

"Sophomore year, huh?" Sam asked casually, anger still burning behind his words and he was sure the demon could hear it.

"Brady, here, he was a good kid -Straight arrow. I mean, your best friend, really. Perfect point of access," the demon replied with that grin still shining. Sam breathed deeply, nodding to himself.

"Thanksgiving," he said, almost to himself.

"Yes, sir. Remember when I came back from break all messed up - Dropped out of pre-med, the drugs, the bitches? That was the new Brady. That was me," the demon said proudly, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Remember how much time you spent trying to get me back on the right track? You really were a good friend. But ol' yellow eyes didn't send me back to be your friend. No, we could tell we were starting to lose you," he said, ignoring the flash in Sam's eyes and the dangerous twitch of his hand around Ruby's knife.

Sam breathed again, trying to force himself to wait until the demon was done with his story. Trying to force himself to hold it off until the last possible moment.

"You were becoming a mild-mannered, worthless sack of piss. Now, come on. We couldn't have that. You were our favorite," Brady reminded like he should never forget it and it was a compliment. "So I hooked you up with a pure, sweet, innocent piece of tail. And then I toasted her on the ceiling. That's right - Azazel might have put the hit out on Jessica, but, man, I got to have all the fun!" Brady said with a demented smile and a laugh from the chest and all that rage doubled.

Sam wished he didn't see her burning on the ceiling, that blank look in her eyes and the way her mouth might have been moving and she might have been trying to say something. Maybe it was his name. Maybe it was 'I love you'. He wouldn't know, and the reason was right in front of him.

"You know, she thought we were friends, too. Let me right in. She was baking cookies," he said with another chuckle. "She was so surprised...So hurt when I started in on her."

In the moment, Sam was up against the demon, pressing the knife into his throat and knew it would never be enough to get the replay of her death out of his head. He knew it wouldn't bring her back.

"Come on! Do it if it'll make you feel better!" the demon urged, laughing around a wince and Sam dug the knife deeper into his skin, drawing a droplet of blood to the surface. "Do it, Sammy! Do it! Come on! Come on!" he nearly begged, like he was watching NASCAR and Sam was on the final turn.

The conflict beat through his heart and across the planes of his chest and moved into his blood and his brain and there was no way out of it. It was crashing through his eardrums to the beat of his breathing, shallow and unsteady, and gripping him at the gut. Breathing hurt.

Sam closed his eyes and tried to clear his mind, ridding himself of memories and feelings, each harder to pull from his body than the last. And then he made his decision.


	129. Chapter 129

**Happy Holiday Break! I decided to be awesome and put this up for you guys, since you've been waiting so long. I'm working hard on the next one aaaand I wrote a poem from Dean's perspective, if anyone wants me to upload it as a oneshot. Thanks so much guys, and please please review.**

**-Han**

Dean slammed his fists into the bathroom door, his breathing ragged and uneven, his brow furrowed in desperation and pain. His hands hurt with the force of the hits, but he never let up. He felt his phone buzz in his pocket, but he didn't reach for it. He knew it was Kat because he'd called her. She hadn't picked up and he'd lost rational thought. He couldn't hear his voice fast enough to calm the frantic beats of his heart and the pounding in his brain and he couldn't handle the fear. They would lose everything, everything they'd ever fought for, if Sam gave up.

"Come on!" he screamed in frustration, ramming his shoulder into the door and he was sure the joint was damaged. He could hear movement on the other side and his breathing was even more ragged.

"Hey, hey, hey! All right! Wait! I'm gonna open it," he heard Sam say through the door and he stood back, his arms dropping to his sides and he reached to his pocket for his phone. He flicked it open and turned it to speaker as the door opened and he walked out.

"What happened?" he asked, cutting across the immediate slew of questions from Kat on the other end of the line.

"Nothing," Sam said stiffly, his eyes flicking back to the other room.

"_Nothing my ass," _Kat shouted down the line. "_If this is what happens when you guys leave without me, you can cart me out of this house in a wheelchair next time!" _she said with an audible grunt.

"Dean, Kat, I'm fine," Sam said with a sigh of exhaustion and Kat quieted on the other end, her breathing slightly ragged down the line.

"Yeah? What about Brady?" Dean asked, picking the phone up closer to his head and remembering she had no idea what he was talking about.

"Like you said…we need him," Sam said, defeated and sad. Kat sighed through the phone and Dean could imagine her putting her head in her hands.

"_Start from the beginning," _she said softly, sounding as weak as she was when they left her, and Dean knew that only anger and confusion and worry had given her the appearance of strength. He knew she was just as broken and fragmented as she was when he pulled her from the ashes of Michael's arrival. He knew she would have to be taken in a wheelchair if she went with them, she was still that weak.

He sighed, his chest rising and falling in time with his heart and he felt so much older than he was. Older than he should feel.

Xx

When the phone was snapped shut and Kat had left them with a grumpy sounding '_get your asses home, soon', _they moved to the next room to watch Brady. No one said a word, no one spoke and no one moved. The demon ignored them, staring blankly into nothing and the hunters mirrored him. Dean's eyes were blinking lethargically and he was reminded of his lack of sleep, he needed coffee, adrenaline, something. He needed a moment to breathe, a moment to think beyond the job.

He needed to sit and do nothing, watch Chuck Norris movies with Kat and his brother, drink cheap beer and argue over the validity of licorice as a movie snack with Bobby and Sam. He needed to sleep easy with Kat in his arms, where his only problem was that he was turning into a girly man.

He looked up sharply when Crowley appeared, the demon staring at Brady with a contemptuous grin. He sauntered closer to the silent hostage with a sparkle in his eyes.

"God. The day I've had," he complained with a look to the Winchesters. He turned back to the demon and his voice was chipper and bright. "Good news. You're going to live forever!"

"What did you do?" Brady breathed, his eyes wide and blown huge to the world of pain he would undoubtedly be in. His breathing was heavy and labored, like he'd been running, running, running away and far and wide and everywhere he could. He felt like he'd been escaping an inevitable end and now it was at his doorstep in the form of this demon.

"Went over to a demons' nest -had a little massacre. Must be losing my touch, though. Let one of the little toads live. Oops," Crowley said with an innocent grin. "Also might have given said toad the impression that you left your post last night because you and I are -wait for it -Lovers in league against Satan," he intoned with saucy look that drew a strained laugh from Dean's lips.

He had no doubt it would have set Kat into convulsive laughter that would have left her breathless and hurting. He was glad she wasn't here, so he didn't have to see the way she let the mask fall over her eyes to hide the pain. So he wouldn't have to catch glimpses of broken wings in his peripheral.

"Oh no no no," Brady muttered, hatred clear in his eyes and panic in his voice and he tried to push it down to remain unaffected. But they'd seen past his defenses. Seen through the wall he'd erected and he knew they smelled victory liked he smelled the rust of his own blood over iron and chains.

"Something else we have in common, apart from our torrid passion, of course, craven self-preservation. So, now, why don't you tell me where Pestilence is at?" Crowley said lowly, his eyes turning dangerous and all at once Sam was glad he didn't do it. Watching the demon break from words alone made a calmness rush over his system and he only felt relief and enjoyment.

Everything froze, the moment stilled and thick as the howling reached their ears and Dean's breathing hitched, eyes blown wide with fear and his heart was pumping too fast. Brady cursed harshly and glared at Crowley, ignoring the hunters beside him. Dean looked up frantically at the demon they trusted for the moment, panic in his eyes.

"Was that a hellhound?" he asked softly, so softly the demon had to strain to hear him and it sounded dry, like he hadn't had anything to drink for days. Like his voice was unused and gone and barren.

"I'd say yeah," he answered quietly, remembering Dean's history with them. Remembering the way the demon community had raised celebration and victory.

Dean could feel the claws scratching down his chest, tearing skin and letting blood pour down across him like he was bathing in a sticky river of red. He would drown in it, suffocate, be pulled down by that burning, stinging pain that would drive him to the edge of his own existence and he would fall. He would crash into oblivion and feel darkness brush against his skin and when he woke he would be chained to each limb. Alistair would be standing over him, whispering sweet threats in his ear and they would feel like nothing, they would fall on deaf ears and he would be bracing himself. And it wouldn't be enough and he would break all over again, submitting his body to the darkness and his eyes would cloud over with black and he would become what he hunted.

"Why was that a hellhound?" Dean asked roughly, anger starting to rise in his gut and he didn't know how he would hide it from his brother. Hide that he wasn't fixed, wasn't okay. He was only glad that Kat wasn't there to see him frantically clutch to his last fragments of sanity and calm.

Crowley groaned, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a coin, inspecting it with a glare.

"What's that?" Sam asked hollowly, empty. A shell of a being removed from the situation to keep himself from ending the pitiful life of the demon across from him. Brady's existence alone was enough to make fury burn white-hot through his veins and his heart beat in his ears too loud.

"Remember I was telling you about my crafty little tracking device?" Crowley asked in a low voice, as if afraid to call attention to himself and Sam remembered the hellhounds closing in on him and his eyes slid to his brother. Dean looked empty, like his soul had fled at the memory of ripped flesh and Sam thought that maybe it had. Maybe it had gone looking for its partner, searching blindly for pale fingers and praying that Kat could shelter him.

But Dean was stronger than that.

"Yeah," Sam answered, pulling himself from his thoughts and he didn't think he would like what the demon said next.

"Demons planted one on me," Crowley muttered, eyes searching the empty space around him as if expecting the hounds to already be in front of him.

"You're saying a hellhound followed you here?" Sam demanded harshly, his eyes burning and he just wished he could have that knife back in his hand and maybe he would turn it on Crowley.

"Well, technically, he followed this," the demon said in a slightly chipper voice. As if he could dispel the enemy with light sarcasm and a positive outlook.

"Get me out of here. I'll tell you anything you want," Brady interjected, his eyes wide and breathing heavy and harsh.

"Shut up," Sam barked, that dangerous anger rising in his chest until his vision went red and he had to rely on his brother's voice to tether him to the ground. Only Dean could do that, his voice registering in Sam's brain as a brother, friend, and parent all at once.

"Okay, well, then we should go," Dean said logically, slowly, obviously trying to keep his heart rate in control and not give away that dangerous fear in his chest. He could feel it spreading through his blood and take over every fiber of his being until his body was at war with itself. He hated hell hounds. Really hated them.

"Sorry, boys. No one knows more about the hounds than I. You're long past the point of 'go'," Crowley said darkly, tossing Dean the tracking coin and disappearing with a swift displacement of air.

"Dammit!" Dean swore, catching the coin and his head was screaming at him. Stupid, he should have known this would happen. Demon's couldn't be trusted and he knew that, knew that better than anyone and he had seen it happen to Sam too many times to count.

"I told you!" Sam shouted and Dean had the insane urge to hit his brother. He knew he'd screwed up, he didn't need to hear it from his brother when he could already hear the hounds closer than before. Could hear them howling out his death to him.

"Great for you!" he said mockingly, rolling his eyes. "Just go get the salt," he said bitterly. "It's in the kitchen, second cabinet."

"You get it, I'll watch Brady," Sam said quickly, snatching up the shotgun he'd brought in with him and raising it to the wall.

"Watch me? Get me the hell out of here!" Brady shouted, fear so clear in his eyes and Sam had to pretend he didn't take some sort of sick pleasure in it. In the way the demon feared the never-ending torture he would fall victim to.

"Bitch," Dean shouted back at his brother as he ran to the kitchen, fumbling with the cabinet doors with numb fingers and gripping the salt like it was a trophy. A laugh of victory was cut short as the windows were blown in, glass shattering around him like the pieces of his soul, his past, blending together to make the person he was.

Dean cursed and started firing at random, praying he hit one of the hounds, praying he could diminish the threat just the slightest. "Sammy!" he shouted out to his brother, if only as a way to assure himself he was still alive.

"Salt?" Sam asked, prayed, waiting for the way to protect themselves. Dean flew back into the room, making a sloppy circle around their bodies. Brady struggled harshly against his bonds as the sounds of hellhounds grew nearer to them.

"Dammit! Get me out of here!" the demon shouted loudly, his voice grating on the hunter's ears.

"Shut up!" They shouted together, looking back to glare at the demon with fire in their eyes. They turned away as one and fired towards another bark.

"Great, just great!" Brady shouted sarcastically, his head tipping back in exasperation. Dean's heart was thrashing in his chest and his fingers were numb on the trigger and his head pounded harshly.

"Hey!" Crowley's voice reached their ears and all at once the fear was gone and Dean could breathe. He turned back to the demon with shock coloring his green eyes and Crowley found it almost comical how little faith they had in him. Though in their position, he would feel the same.

"You're back?" Dean asked hoarsely, locking eyes with the Scott.

"I'm invested, currently," the demon responded truthfully, with a soft sort of shrug. At the sound of a bark too close for comfort, Crowley turned and glared at what looked like empty air. "Stay!" he shouted and Dean wondered if Crowley could be the Dog Whisperer.

"You can control them?" he asked, something like raw hope in his eyes and maybe it wasn't healthy and he didn't care if he trusted the demon tonight.

"Not that one," Crowley said with a shake of his head. He turned and pointed behind him, a wry grin on his lips. "I brought my own," he smiled, rubbing a hand along the air and Dean wondered if the man felt coarse fur beneath his fingers. "Mine's bigger," he preened pompously.

Dean thought he had the right to sound proud, and he let a wistful smile rise to his lips and breathed so deeply he could feel his body sighing from the release of tension.

"Sic him, boy!" Crowley shouted joyously, watching rapt with attention as his hellhound hit the other and the hunters could hear the snarls, barks, ripping of flesh and gnashing of teeth. Crowley looked like he was watching the Superbowl and he'd bet on the winner.

"Go, go, go," Dean said quickly, pushing Sam and Brady out the door ahead of him and rushing out into the night. He sighed, feeling more alive than he had in years and maybe he would do something crazy, do something dangerous.

"I'll wager $1,000 my pup wins," said a calm Crowley, standing in the dark with lit cigarette. The embers cast a glow on his face and Dean thought he looked like any other person. Not a demon with the souls of millions under his belt and on the run from the Devil.

For those moments, they breathed heavily and tinged on the edges with fear and adrenaline. Breathing was a gift and for the moments they treasured them.

Xx

The back alley they stood in reminded Dean of the one Castiel had dragged him to by the cuff of his shirt. Where he had learned of the depth of feeling, any feeling, the fallen angel had accomplished, and he thought his daughter had rubbed off on him. He thought that Castiel had acheived a level of humanity Dean had never thought possible, and maybe Kat helped, somewhere in between.

Brady passed Crowley a piece of paper, movements hesitant and frightened, as if the Devil himself would step from the shadows and drag him screaming to the rack in Hell. "Yeah. I'm sure pestilence will be there. Thanks," he was saying, glaring at those around him and Dean leaned against the alley like a drug dealer, living on the rough side of life.

"What do you think?" Dean asked Crowley, while looking at the sad demon in front of him like he was inspecting a rat in his cartel.

"It's good. You got no reason to lie, have you? Like I said before, you're in my boat now," Crowley said the demon with a wry grin.

"You've screwed me, for eternity," Brady hissed as Dean passed him and started walking to the mouth of the alley.

"Nah, won't last that long, trust me," Crowley said, following the hunter with easy steps. The pair of them passed Sam, who was staring at Brady blankly, trying to push down the anger he could feel rising in his chest, the bloodlust he harbored in his heart was pushing against the confines of his body.

"Where are you going?" Brady asked hoarsely, and it might have been fear that colored his voice.

Dean bent and began pouring a salt line, the white spilling around his fingers and he had to resist the urge to do as Kat did and throw salt over his shoulder. He left the line open, waiting for Crowley to pass.

"I'm going to do you a favor," Crowley said with a grin, passing over the line carefully and looking back at the brothers as Dean closed the line. "I expect we'll be in touch," he said, before disappearing into empty air.

"What is this?" Brady asked, his voice higher than it should have been and he could see Dean smiling cruelly in the background.

"All those angels, all those demons, all those sons of bitches...They just don't get it, do they, Sammy?" he asked his brother, his eyes flicking to the calm hunter with anticipation in his eyes.

"No. No, they don't, Dean," Sam responded, a hollow smile rising to his lips.

"You see, Brady," Dean said with a vicious grin as his brother moved forward, Ruby's knife in hand. The light reflected on his eyes and Dean could see the bloodlust and felt it in his own chest, violence calling to them like sirens on seas and they would be dragged under by the call. He watched his brother grin too wide and his hand twitched around the knife and Brady's eyes grew frightened, more frightened than a demon should have been at the prospect of death.

When Dean spoke again, Sam would move and plunge the knife deeply into the demon's chest and there would be no mercy, yellow light flickering across the body. But for the moment, Dean drew it out, let it hang there, let it simmer. Before his smile grew and all the hate for the supernatural came back and grew until it couldn't be contained in his chest.

"We're the ones you should be afraid of."


	130. Chapter 130

**Hey! This one has KAT, anyone miss her? Anyone? Well, we also got some flashbacks (one but who's counting?) and Crowley makes another appearance. Let me know what you think! This is also the end of the episode Devil You Know, which means we are one step closer to the end.**

**-Han**

Kat lounged on Bobby's desk, her eyes staring vacantly ahead of her, fingers tapping a mindless beat on her thighs as her legs swished back on forth from her position on the edge of the wood. She hadn't had a call from Dean in over an hour and she was starting to become concerned. Not worried. Worried meant something bad had inevitably happened and it didn't.

She rolled her shoulders experimentally, earning her a glare from Bobby when she winced. She wished she could fly. She felt more trapped than she had in years and it was funny how quickly the ability had become a part of her. Like it was something she'd had forever.

Bobby was actually doing something productive, he was running Rufus past some omens and inquiring about Death over the phone. She'd only met Rufus once, and had no bias on the man, but she knew Bobby was close with him. Or as close as Bobby could get with anyone.

She remembered how awkward he was, those first few months she and Jamie lived in his house, like he had to toe his way around them. She remembered the distant way he attempted to take a leading role in their lives, teach them what they needed to know. He was never very good at it, especially when he thought of them as victims and nothing else.

It was almost a year after they started staying with him that he began to view at least her as a person, as something other than a nameless, faceless, being that had been through a lot and was bunking under his roof. She knew he remembered too.

_Kat hadn't slept, the hours awake blending together until she couldn't see the hands of the clock any longer. She couldn't take the nightmares, the reliving of her Hell so close to the surface that she could feel His breath on her skin. She couldn't take waking up screaming to the house, Bobby trying his best to subdue her. He would eye her like a bomb for hours afterwards, waiting for her to explode and he would speak to her in whispers like the detonator was voice activated. _

_So she had decided to stop sleeping all together, drinking cup after cup of the strongest coffee Bobby could by and he hadn't asked questions. He'd grunted once or twice about her getting shut-eye, but he could almost feel the stubborn around him and he didn't want to bother facing it. He could understand what would make her want to avoid sleep._

_It might've been the third straight day, late afternoon, when he found her in the Lot. She was huddled up in the rows of cars, crying like he'd never seen her cry. He realized that he might have never seen her cry. Her body was bent in half, her head resting on raised knees and he could see the start of her wings beneath her hair and the wife-beater she wore. _

"_Just another torture," he heard her mutter to herself. "You'll wake up and it won't be real. None of it will be real."_

_Bobby had rubbed a hand over his face, unsure of how to proceed and he didn't think there was a protocol for this, even for hunters. He wished he didn't have to save her, wished she was still with her family and all was well and maybe she would have been an honors student. _

"_Bobby and John aren't even real," she hissed, something in her breaking and Bobby wondered how often she felt like this. "You should know better! Like someone could take me in," she said sharply, her demeanor changing as she dropped the second person and it didn't seem like she'd even realized it. "Master was right; he's the only one who kept his promises. The only one I can trust," she said bitterly and his stomach churned when she called it 'Master'. _

_His eyes found the sky and he almost prayed for the first time in years. But in his experience, and he had a lot of it with dead parents and a dead wife, to know that praying didn't mean shit and it got you nowhere._

"_Don't even deserve to live," he heard her say, wrenching himself back into the present and he'd had enough of being frozen. He walked assuredly to where she stood and lowered himself down next to her, his body separated from hers, but he didn't look at her. Only gazed out at the lot and ignored her sharp intake of breath and her attempts to wipe her eyes._

"_I killed my own father," he said, voice gruff and weak all at once. Her head shot up and he knew she was listening. "Beat on my mama more than a fair share of times, beat on me more than I can count. Never did nothin' till I found where he kept his gun." The admission was distant, like he was reliving a dream and Kat's watery eyes were rapt on him. He swallowed and continued. "Next night I knocked a glass off the dinner table. I still wonder what would have happened if I hadn't been so clumsy. Things escalated so quickly I could barely keep up and then he was hitting my mom again and then I had a gun in my hands. I don't ever remember going to get it, or even deciding to pull the trigger. But he fell down to the tile and I couldn't take it back."_

_There was a pause, in which Kat scooted closer to him, until she had to look directly up to see his eyes. Her body actually touched his, shoulders bumping lightly. The small action was enough to amaze him and make him wonder about how much it took for her to do it. Maybe the same it took for him to tell his story._

"_There's been times in my life when I thought I wasn't worth the dirt I stand on, the air I breathe, but…there's always a purpose. There's always a way you can give life the finger and do what you gotta do to make things right. You let anyone tell you how to live your life and you're better off dead. But you're free now, and I'm not gonna see you waste it because some sadistic sonofabitch told you different. You hear me, idjit?" He asked, and his tone was something fatherly she'd never really heard before._

_He could see the scars so clearly on her skin, and knew the scars on the inside were so much worse. So deep he wondered how she'd managed to stay put together this long. _

"_Now don't you dare go thinkin' this ain't real, or I'll whup your ass so bad you'll wish it was," he threatened with a grin and she actually cracked the beginnings of a smile. "Now get your bony ass off the dirt and go fix that Chevy out front."_

The present rushed back and maybe the memory was shared, as the phone was back in place and Bobby was looking at nothing. They blinked almost together, and Kat glanced at her phone.

"They still haven't called," she said quietly, her voice still sounding laced with pain, even to her.

"I'm sure the idjits are fine," Bobby said dismissively, but his words sounded uneasy, like was trying to convince himself more than anyone.

"Chin up, Cavalry's arrived," a Scottish voice said brightly from the center of the room. Kat and Bobby turned as one, the former wincing as she rolled off the desk and stood with gun in hand. Crowley looked at her with something like concern. "You may want to take a moment, darling. I don't mind waiting," he said, looking over her wings with a clinical expression. "That Michael certainly did a number on you."

"Crowley, I know you're not here to check up on lil 'ol me," she responded sarcastically, but the demon could detect a hint of gratitude around the edges of her hard gaze.

"This is Crowley?" Bobby asked, trying to decide whether or not to be impressed by the familiarity he seemed to carry with Kat.

"In the flesh…of a moderately successful Literary Agent out of New York," Crowley conceded after a moment, gesturing to himself with a broad sweep and a charming smile. It dropped into a scowl when Bobby shot him. "I liked that suit," he said almost sadly.

"What do you want?" Kat said, bringing the attention back to the reason for his visit. He smiled charmingly at her, as if to thank her for not shooting him.

"Looking out for number one," he said brightly.

"Meaning…?" Kat and Bobby asked together, earning a small smile from the demon.

"The boys are on the ring number three, but we still need number four. I'm here to help with that," he said with a grin.

"You know where Death is?" Bobby asked skeptically.

"Haven't the foggiest," Crowley quipped back as if it were obvious. Kat rolled her eyes while Bobby aimed his shot gun again at Crowley's chest.

"Well, then get the hell off my property before I blast you so full of rock salt, you crap margaritas," Bobby threatened darkly. Kat looked back at him with a chuckle.

"That's a good one, mind if I use it some time?" she asked, her voice sounding reasonably strong for the first time in weeks. Crowley did notice the way her body seized up when she chuckled, obviously battling off the pain.

"That's a mite unfriendly, seeing as I could be getting you death's location in about the time it'd take you to reload," Crowley said smartly and Kat thought that he was just like a lawyer that way. Getting you listening when you'd rather just shoot them.

"You're just gonna chat some demons up and hope they don't recognize you?" Bobby asked sarcastically, his shotgun still held tightly between aging fingers, but they could still pull down on the trigger before he could blink.

"God, no. That could get me killed. But there is this little spell that I know," Crowley said charmingly, so much like a snake that even Kat was pulled into the idea. She caught herself before she could fall too far and looked at him levelly.

"What do you need to do it?" She asked slowly, carefully.

"Results are 100% guaranteed," he said, sidestepping her question with an earnest look.

"What's the catch?" she and Bobby asked as one, looking at him levelly.

"It's rather embarrassing really, but there is this technicality," he said slowly, looking almost nervously around himself as Kat stared at him, trying to see through to the center and maybe find the truth. Truth in a creature made of lies and it seemed so comical to Kat.

"You need a soul," she said finally, thankful for the in-depth teaching Bobby had put her through, forcing her to know her ways around archaic spells and the ways of demons.

"You make a wish. I can give you anything you want, mate - Up to and including death's coordinates. All I need is..." Crowley trailed off, ignoring her and staring straight at Bobby.

"_My _soul," Bobby concluded, his eyes finding the ground distractedly. He was after him, not Kat not Dean not Sam, not anyone else. Just him.

"I've done more with less. Let's just say when they're getting their Grammys, they shouldn't all be thanking God. It's worth it, Bobby. Think." Crowley urged, looking almost desperate.

"Well, here's our counter," Kat said stiffly, both of the hunters firing off a round into the demon's chest with stoic eyes and Kat winced from the kick-back.

"Ow! Bloody hell! Feisty," the demon said, stumbling backwards and giving the pair of them an almost proud glance, as if he expected nothing less.

"Get out," the hunters said together, eyes hard, guns raised.

"I'll give it right back," Crowley assured, moving back to them slowly. Kat rolled her eyes, a glare settling into them.

"You think I'm a natural born idjit?" Bobby asked before she could speak. His gaze was something harder than hers, set in stone and his mind was made up. But she could see the cracks. He was considering it, considering letting the demon handle his soul if it helped to save the world.

"Quite the contrary. Look, you're right to be suspicious. But I'm your ally. Enemy of my enemy and all that. I need the devil back in his stock. In fact, my delicate ass depends on it. I promise you -temporary loan. I'll give it...Right...Back," Crowley assured softly.

"Can you use mine?" Kat asked suddenly, looking up and setting her gun down. Crowley turned shocked eyes onto her, as if trying to see if he heard her correctly.

"A human soul melded with the power of an angel?" Crowley asked, as if appraising a rare diamond. "It's ten times more powerful than any other, the location we would attain would be exact," he breathed, excited by the prospect. "I've never touched a Nephilim's soul before."

"It's a good deal?" she asked, ignoring Bobby's shell-shocked look. She stared straight at the demon, a calculating look in her eyes. "Then you should sweeten it for me."

Crowley let his eyes flick between her and Bobby and rushed to her, standing until he could lean down and whisper into her ear and he felt the gun in Bobby's hands turn to be level with him. He could feel himself smirking a she leaned down and whispered fervently into her ear. A breathless smile rose to her lips and she nodded furiously.

"You can do that?" she asked excitedly.

"Oh, I assure you," he said softly, a grin spreading across his face. He pulled back, looking proud of himself.

"Of course, our resident hunter's will never let this happen," he said softly, looking between the two of them with a predatory grin. Kat giggled, catching on and wincing slightly as she nodded to herself. "We need proof that you didn't do this."

"She's not doin' it at all!" Bobby shouted suddenly, finally unfreezing. Crowley grinned, turning back towards her and crushing his mouth to hers, kissing her roughly before Bobby could do anything. Kat forced herself to kiss the Scott back, wrongness creeping into her body but she did it anyway. All the memories of Alistair and pain and fear rushed through her body but she made herself focus on the touch alone. Only the feeling of the human's skin on hers, not the hellish creature beneath it. Just the Scott, just the soft skin and rough kiss. She wasn't sure how long it lasted but she knew she needed to breathe soon, the burning starting in her lungs. When they broke apart, the demon looked slightly apologetic.

"I know that couldn't have been easy," he said softly, brushing a thumb across her cheek and she pretended it was Dean touching her. Dean who had kissed her and that made it a little easier.

"Just don't forget the deal, Crowley," she said with equal softness. She turned her eyes to a sick looking Bobby and stepped away from the demon. Her eyes turned apologetic, tinged with wry humor as Crowley moved to face Bobby, a cell phone appearing in his hand.

"They'll know we made a deal, but they don't have to know with whom," Crowley said devilishly making a further move toward the shocked older hunter. Bobby's head shook back and forth, catching on quickly as he dropped his gun on the desk and tried to roll himself away. Crowley was in front of him in an instant, leaning down with a roughish grin. "Pucker up, darling."


	131. Chapter 131

**I'm sorry this took so long, I just had a little bit of writers block. The next chapter should be up soon, and it'll be longer, promise!**

**-Han**

A leather journal crashed against the wall, loose pages fluttering out and the spine nearly breaking. A slew of curses followed a second later as Kat cradled her arm and glared daggers at the inanimate object. She hated writing, it made her feel stupid. When words refused to flow the way her thoughts did and not even a dictionary could correct her spelling, the frustration was pushing her beyond her limits.

Her head pounded, blood pumping through her body and carrying the pain, doubling its intensity until she felt like she would explode. Every breath inward made pain radiate through her chest to the tips of her wings and they quivered in response. Her fingers wove into her hair and she pretended that the action didn't double her pain.

She hated feeling stupid; it was something that had plagued her ever since she'd escaped her own personal Hell. Fourth grade math and reading didn't let you function in normal society, and she couldn't learn it, no matter how hard she'd tried. She used to stay up until sun rise trying to learn percentages and multiplications. It would end with her slamming something against the wall, her running into the Lot to work with her hands, something she could understand. She could tell you the parts and fix them, but she couldn't figure out how much a tip should be at the local diner.

She looked up guiltily as Bobby wheeled himself into the room, a sad look in his eyes. He picked up her journal, running his aging hands over the cover and the ink-smudged pages. He didn't open it, only kept it closed and set it in his lap.

"Sorry," she muttered avoiding his eyes. He wheeled closer, his body tired and heavy feeling.

"What for?"

"Everything?" she made it a question, almost unsure why guilt was suddenly weighing heavily on her chest, why it felt like it was crushing her.

"Not everything is your fault," he said with an attempt at a smirk. She rolled her eyes and held her hand out for the journal. He passed it slowly. "Why'd you do it?"

"Sell my soul?" Kat asked, looking at Bobby as if facing a judge. The older man nodded numbly, not trusting his gruff voice to communicate what he wanted. "Because you guys give up too much on a daily basis, it was time for someone else to make a sacrifice."

"Idjit," Bobby grunted. "All hunters sacrifice."

"Exactly," she quipped. "And it was my turn. The three of you gotta stay together, gotta be strong."

"You're family too," he insisted roughly.

"Those boys mean more to you than anything; they mean more to each other than the world they're tryin' to save. I know you guys care, but sometimes, a girl's just gotta make the world easier for other people," she said with a shrug.

"One day we're gonna tackle your self-worth issues," Bobby said tiredly. She smirked, a shallow smile that rested on the surface or her skin and refused to dive deeper and make herself happy. Too much was happening in the world for her to be happy and really, she needed a vacation.

"They're not issues, they're fact," she said stubbornly. "It's just the truth, Bobby, you guys deserve to stay together. I'm not gonna screw that up."

Before the older hunter could open his mouth again, likely to push something through her obnoxious brain that she was worth the trouble to save, he heard the door to the Impala slam outside. Kat looked up sharply, a breathless smile rising to her lips. She looked back at Bobby.

"Remember the way this has to work," she insisted. He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly nodding reluctantly. The front door opened and slammed shut, speaking volumes to the state Dean would be when he entered the room. It sounded like he was simply continuing a conversation that had started outside.

"What the _hell _is wrong with you?" Dean shouted, clearly at his brother. Sam sighed, his shoulders slumping inward and he wondered how he'd ever thought they could handle this like normal people.

"Dean," he tried, his hazel eyes begging for understanding.

"No, don't 'Dean' me. I mean, you, you have had some stupid ideas in the past, But this…" he trailed off, walking further into the room and sparing Bobby and Kat a glance. "D-Did you know about this?"

"What?" Bobby and Kat asked together, her head tilting to the side in confusion.

"About Sam's genius plan to cram the devil down his throat," Dean spat.

"_What,"_ Kat repeated as Bobby nodded his head slowly. She turned to the older hunter. "And you thought _I _was stupid?"

"Thanks for the heads up, man," Dean said to Bobby, his eyes hard.

"Hey, this ain't about me," Bobby said, raising his hands in surrender.

"That was my point, exactly!" Kat accused indignantly, her eyes wide and frustrating. Her fingers clutched at her journal as if it were the source and her head pounded furiously.

"I'm older, I can make these kind of executive decisions," Bobby quipped. Kat rolled her eyes in annoyance and sunk further into the couch, the dark circles under her eyes looking more pronounced than ever.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Dean cut across, glaring at the two of them. Kat swallowed and traced her fingers against the work leather of her journal.

"Nothing," she whispered, scrunching her eyes shut in concentration and trying to get her head on straight. Everything hurt, but she had to hide it. Hide it because they couldn't see her broken or in pain. Hunters were supposed to stand tall, back straight, chin up. "What uh…what are you talking about?"

"I want to say yes to the Devil," Sam said quickly. "And then I want to jump in the pit."

Her heart stopped, her body shutdown and the pain faded to the background to a numb dull ache. Her mind went into a frenzy of fear and loss, just the idea of Sam giving his life to save them seemed wrong. Her head shook back and forth, emotion threatening to break through her currently fragile body.

"No, no, no. There's gotta be another way, Sam," she mumbled, almost to herself. Dean nodded his agreement and stared at his brother. "Look, we'll find something, _anything, _but don't you think you two have been through enough? Don't you think you've sacrificed enough?"  
>"Of course we have, but…Kat, if there's a way to save the world…" Sam argued, his eyes wide with emotion rolling inside him. She knew that look, the one that said he honestly believed this was the only way. "I have to take it."<p>

"Sam," she insisted, her eyes narrowed on his hulking form. "Keep thinkin' like that and you'll box yourself in, and it'll really be the only way. You gotta know that we're not gonna just let you go quietly," She said slowly. "Way I see it, you and Dean, you two belong at each other's side. You're at your best when the other's there. I'm not just gonna sit by and watch the team of all teams be split down the center. I think you both suffered enough the first time."

"There goes the consensus," Sam muttered, avoiding her eyes. Dean grinned cheekily, sending her a grateful look.

"All right, awesome," Dean said with finality. His phone ringing cut off whatever he might've said next. "This isn't over," he said, pointing at his brother before answering. "Yeah?"

"Dean," the gruff voice sounded, the Angel having an aversion to saying 'hello'. Dean breathed out, relief rolling into his system and he wondered when the Angel had become such a friend of his.

"Cas?" he asked, hope rising.

"Is he okay?" Sam asked quickly, his eyebrows rising. Kat fixed them both with hard looks.

"Why would he be anything but? Didn't you say he'd been checking in with you?" She asked, confusion and mistrust in her eyes. Sam swallowed thickly, avoiding her cutting blue eyes and Bobby shifted uncomfortably in his wheelchair.

"We all thought you were Dead. Where the hell are you, man?" Dean said, ignoring the rest of them.

"_Dead?" _Kat asked in a deadly voice, her eyes narrowed and her hands in fists. "You thought he was dead and you just, what? Weren't gonna tell me?" she demanded, her voice rising.

"A hospital," Cas said gruffly, looking around himself at the clear plastic tubes that pierced his vessel's skin. It was too white in here, too sterile. It made him feel even more uncomfortable than the den of iniquity that Dean took him too.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked, trying not to look guilty in front of Kat.

"No," he said shortly, his eyes rolling as if annoyed. "Tell Kat to stop worrying."

Dean relayed the message and passed her the phone when she held her hand out sternly. She held it to her ear and he thought her eyes turned sad and careful looking.

"Cas, are you really okay?" she asked carefully.

"I already said no," Cas said softly, staring at the wall in front of him like it could tell him the answer.

"Can you fly?" she asked softly, jus the word striking pain into her wings.

"No, can you?" he asked hopefully.

"No, Michael kinda screwed me up," she said hoarsely, looking down at her lap and wishing she couldn't feel the cracking soreness in her wings as she tried to extend them again. "Why don't, uh, why don't you sit tight and we'll wire you the cash for a plane here, or something?"

"Okay."

"What happened, Cas?" she asked, swallowing thickly and trying to push down the guilt. She knew she should have gone in with him, should have helped in some way.

"Apparently, after Van Nuys, I suddenly appeared, bloody and unconscious, on a shrimping boat off Delacroix. I'm told it upset the sailors," he said softly, as if attempting humor. Kat chuckled lowly.

"Told you, you need a bell," she said affectionately. "So, did you just wake up?"

"The doctors were fairly surprised. They thought I was brain-dead," he said calmly, as if the fact meant nothing to him. Kat nodded dumbly, having very little else to say.

"Are you physically injured, if you are we may have to put everything on the back burner until you're set. We're makin' plans to gank Petulance soon, but we need you ready to go," Kat said, rubbing a hand over her face tiredly.

"N-no," he said unwillingly. "You could say my batteries are drained," he said awkwardly, trying to speak like Dean did.

"What does that mean?" Kat said quietly, her eyes flicking back up to the quietly waiting hunters.

"I'm saying that I am thirsty and my head aches. I have a bug bite that itches no matter how much I scratch it, and I'm saying that I'm just incredibly..." he trailed off unwillingly.

"Human," Kat whispered gently, her eyes wide with sympathy. "Cas, I'm so sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for," Castiel said confusedly.

"It's a human thing, Cas," she said without explaining it. "Bobby'll wire you the cash, here, talk to Dean again," she said softly, passing the phone back and leaning back into the couch.

"I will?" Bobby asked, his eyebrows raised. She gave him a tired smile and shrugged. "How long you been awake, anyway?"

"What day is it?" she asked, her eyes flicking back up to Dean as Cas spoke to him.

"Dean, you said no to Michael, I owe you an apology," Castiel said slowly, his brow crinkled in earnest. "You are not the burnt and broken shell of a man that I believed you to be."

"Thank you, 'preciate that," Dean said with only a thin layer of sarcasm coating his words.

"You're welcome," Cas said with sincerity.


End file.
